The Wistful Throne

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-21 18:40:54 -

The sky tore open with a sound like tearing silk. It was not thunder. Thunder is a rumble, a distant growl. This was a shriek. A high, thin wail that cut through the air and lodged itself in the marrow of my bones. I stood on the ramparts of Oakhaven, my hand wrapped around the hilt of my sword. The steel was cold. It had always been cold. But today it felt alive, trembling with a fear that was...

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