The Faded Bouquet

hat ein neuen Blog hinzugefügt Literature

2026-08-20 09:34:16 -

The Faded Bouquet

The iron gate groaned, a low, metallic shriek that cut through the damp twilight. I stood before the Hall of Inquisitors, my hand resting on the pommel of my sword, the leather worn smooth by years of service and sweat. The air smelled of wet stone and rotting lilies. It was the scent of the place itself, a perfume of decay that no amount of incense could mask. I had come to deliver a name. I...

0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen