The Wistful Saga

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 10:01:29 -

The Wistful Saga

The hall smelled of roasting boar and stale wine. It was a thick, cloying scent that clung to the velvet drapes. I stood in the corner. My hands were still. They were always still. The master of the house, Lord Ashworth, raised his glass. He looked at me. His eyes were cold. They were the color of winter iron. He did not smile. He never smiled at me. I was only a maker of marks. A carver of...

0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews