The Wistful Crossroads

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 02:05:32 -

The feast was a riot of wax and wine, the air thick with the scent of roasted boar and the sharp, metallic tang of fear that no amount of spiced ale could mask. Margaret sat at the head of the long oak table, her hands steady as she cut a slice of venison, though her mind was a tempest. Around her, the villagers of Oakhaven laughed and drank, their faces flushed with the warmth of the hearth,...

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