The Wistful Crossroads

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 23:58:12 -

The bell did not ring. It hung there. Silent. Cold iron against the stone. Silas stood in the square. The mud sucked at his boots. He pulled his cloak tight. The wind bit. It had a taste. Metal. Old blood. He looked up. The tower loomed. A shadow. A mouth waiting to swallow him. They had sent him. The King’s men. They did not ask. They ordered. Silas was a soldier. He obeyed. He had always...

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