The Pale Banner

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 22:32:45 -

The Pale Banner

The rain did not fall; it hammered. It beat against the hooded cloak of Silas Vane like a thousand small fists demanding entry. He was not a man who feared the cold, though his fingers were purple and stiff, locked around the hilt of a sword that had seen better centuries. The air smelled of wet ash and rotting pine. It was the smell of a world ending, or perhaps one that had already ended and...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews