The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-20 12:53:16 -

The Wistful Petal

The rain in the city of Ashwick did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a thick, grey veil that smelled of wet iron and rotting turnips, settling into the wool of Sergeant Elias Thorne’s uniform until the fabric felt less like cloth and more like a second skin made of damp stone, a heavy, suffocating second skin that clung to his ribs and muffled the frantic, bird-like hammering of his...

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