The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-22 05:42:25 -

The Faded Bouquet

The rain fell on the cobblestones like a whispered secret. It was a grey, relentless drizzle that seeped into the bones of the town of Blackwood. Silas Thorne stood at the threshold of his shop. The door was ajar. The air inside smelled of damp wool and old parchment. Silas was a weaver of tapestries. Not the kind for wealthy halls. His were for the poor. Small things. A shawl for a widow. A...

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