The Wistful Ashes

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 02:53:43 -

The Wistful Ashes

The air in the Hall of Tides is thick with the smell of ozone and old blood. You do not blink. Blinking is a privilege of those who are not currently being unmade. You stand before the High Arbiter, a figure draped in robes of shifting grey that seem to swallow the light around him. His face is a mask of polished porcelain, featureless save for the faint, pulsing vein of blue that runs from his...

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