The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-20 09:30:11 -

The Faded Bouquet

You hold the sword. The steel is cold. It bites your palm. You are in the Hall of Mirrors. The floor is black marble. It reflects the chandeliers. The chandeliers drip light. The light is yellow. The light is old. You see yourself. You are small. You are a speck. The air tastes of dust. And iron. And old blood. "Kneel," says the Voice. The Voice comes from everywhere. It is the wind in the...

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