The Pale Bonsai

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2026-08-22 01:32:36 -

The Pale Bonsai

The hammer rang against the oak. It was a dull, heavy sound. Thud. Thud. Thud. Silas wiped his brow with a rag that had not been clean in a week. The wood under his hands was warm. It smelled of resin and old rain. He was building a gate. A small, intricate gate for the manor’s east wing. It was a commission he did not want. It was a job that felt like a noose tightening around his throat. He...

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