The Faded Masquerade

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2026-08-22 01:52:34 -

The watchtower was cold. The stone bit through the wool. Elias stood at the edge. He held the spear. The wood was dry. The tip was sharpened. Below, the valley slept. Mist clung to the roots of the oaks. No birds sang. The air was still. Elias breathed. In. Out. He was the Watchman. That was his title. His name did not matter. Only the duty. The village lay in a bowl of shadow. Roof tiles like...

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