The Wistful Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 00:16:52 -

The mud tasted of iron. I spat it out. The taste lingered. It was the taste of old blood. The rain fell in sheets. Cold. Sharp. My armor was heavy. Wet. It pulled at my shoulders. I was a shield-bearer. I had been for ten years. Ten years of mud. Ten years of steel. I was not a man. I was a function. A wall. A gate. My name is Silas. I wore the crest of the City of Aethelgard. A silver wolf on...

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