The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-20 06:16:39 -

The Wistful Petal

The tower stood in the middle of the field. It was not a ruin. It was not a dream. It was a tower. I stood at its base. My boots were mud. My hands were empty. I looked up. The stones were white. They were clean. They did not look like stone. They looked like bone. "Is it real?" I asked. "Ask the wind," said a voice. "The wind knows. The wind does not lie. The wind only blows." I turned. A man...

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