The Wistful Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 12:07:56 -

The rain fell in sheets. Gray. Cold. It slicked the mud of the pass. Sir Caelan held the sword. His arm shook. Not from cold. It was fear. A cold knot in his gut. The mist swallowed the valley below. They were alone. Or so he thought. The enemy was not men. It was silence. It was the weight of what he knew. He had seen the future. A vision. Clear. Terrible. The village of Oakhaven would burn....

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