The Wistful Mirror

bir ses eklendi Literature

2026-08-20 17:24:01 -

The feast was cold. I sat at the head of the long oak table. My hands trembled. I looked at the food. Roast boar. Stewed leeks. Dark bread. It looked like dirt. It looked like ash. I did not touch it. The hall was silent. Candles burned low. The wax pooled on the stone floor. The air smelled of wet wool and old blood. Outside, the wind screamed against the shutters. It sounded like a warning. I...

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