The Wistful Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 00:33:39 -

The rain hits the shield with a sound like tearing silk. You are wet to the bone. The cold is not merely a temperature. It is a weight. A physical thing pressing against your ribs. You raise your arm. The metal groans. The thing before you does not bleed. It has no face. It is a void in the shape of a man. It reaches for you. You strike back. Your sword is a stick of iron. It feels heavy. It...

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews