The Faded Portrait

ha aggiunto una foto Literature

2026-08-22 09:34:28 -

The rain in the castle courtyard was not water, but a thin, persistent mist that smelled of iron and old blood. I stood before the High Justiciar, my hand resting on the hilt of my sword, watching the tapestry behind his throne. It was a woven scene of the King’s coronation, vibrant in its reds and golds, but as the Justiciar spoke, a single drop of crimson welled up on the fabric, swelling...

0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 2 Views 0 Anteprima