The Wistful Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 19:48:42 -

The rain fell like a curse. I walked. The road was mud. The mud was black. It sucked at my boots. I pulled them free. I walked on. The forest closed in. Trees stood like sentinels. They had no faces. They had only bark. I wore the cloak. It was heavy. It was wet. It was mine. My mother’s. No. It was older. It was ancient. It smelled of smoke and iron. I clung to it. I was cold. The cold was...

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