The Faded Quadrant

أضاف وظيفة جديدة Literature

2026-08-20 00:09:35 -

The mist clung to the stone walls of the Keep like a shroud, damp and cold against the skin. I stood at the edge of the courtyard, my hand resting on the hilt of my sword, though the blade was not drawn. The air smelled of wet moss and old iron. It was the third day of the siege. The men of the King waited beyond the palisade, their faces hidden by the fog. I waited for the order. I waited for...

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