The Distant Legend

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 15:54:05 -

The feast is a lie. The tables stretch from the gate to the well. Candles drip wax onto the stone. The air smells of roasting meat and fear. You sit at the head. Your armor is dented. It fits poorly now. The leather straps chafe your ribs. You are fifty years old. You are tired. Everyone watches you. They do not look at your face. They look at your hands. They look at the sword across your...

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews