The Wistful Voyage
The feast in the great hall of Blackwood Manor was not a celebration of joy, but a ritual of endurance, the air thick with the smell of roasted boar and stale ale, a suffocating atmosphere that pressed against the lungs of every guest who sat upon the high-backed chairs carved from ancient oak. In the center of the wooden table, where the candlelight flickered and danced like trapped spirits,...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 3 Views 0 Anteprima