The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-21 09:39:28 -

The Wistful Petal

The blade slipped. Not deep, but enough. A red line opened on my forearm, a thin vein of life leaking into the dark. I did not scream. Screaming was for the uninitiated. I stood in the center of the hall, the floorboards groaning under the weight of my boots, and watched the blood pool in the sole of my shoe. The air tasted of iron and old stone. Dust motes danced in the shafts of pale...

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