The Faded Root

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 14:01:04 -

The Faded Root

The hall is dark. You stand at the edge of the table. The air is thick. It smells of wax and old blood. You are cold. You are not supposed to be here. "Look at him," says the voice. It is low. It rasps. You do not turn. You keep your eyes on the silver plate. It is tarnished. It reflects your face. Your face is small. Your face is young. You are a soldier. You are a tool. You are nothing. The...

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