The Faded Ruin

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 09:52:35 -

The Faded Ruin

The wool of my sister’s cloak had always smelled of woodsmoke and old coins, a scent that clung to the damp stone of the keep like a persistent ghost, but this morning, as I watched her from the shadows of the high window, the fabric looked different. It looked thin. It looked like a skin stretched over a bone that no longer wanted to hold its shape. I am not a man of high birth, nor was I ever...

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