The Faded Road

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 02:19:13 -

The Faded Road

The feast was a wound in the dark. Candles burned low. Tallow smoke curled. It tasted of sin. The table groaned under the weight of roasted meats. Of honeyed figs. Of stale bread. The air was thick. Heavy with sweat. With fear. Silas sat at the head. He did not eat. His hands were bound. Rope bit into his wrists. Raw. Red. The village elders watched him. Their faces were masks. Smooth. Cold....

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