The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-19 22:55:02 -

The Wistful Petal

In the dream, the air was thick with the scent of rotting lilies and old iron, a heavy, suffocating perfume that seemed to seep into the very marrow of Aldric’s bones. He stood in the center of the Great Hall of the Whitmore estate, a place that had been his home for forty years and would soon be a mausoleum for his name. The stone floor was cold, a chill that climbed his legs and settled in...

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