The Faded Attic

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2026-08-22 08:35:05 -

The Faded Attic

The feast hall of Oakhaven smelled of roasted pork and stale ale, a thick, cloying scent that clung to the wool of Elias’s tunic. He sat at the lower table, his hands wrapped around a cup of watered wine, watching the Guild Master raise a goblet to the dying. The room was loud, a cacophony of clattering plates and forced laughter, but Elias heard only the rhythm of his own pulse, a frantic...

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