The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-22 11:36:17 -

The Faded Bouquet

The air in the crypt did not smell of death, but of wet stone and old iron, a scent that clung to the back of Elara’s throat like a swallowed stone. She knelt on the cold flagstones, her knees aching with a dull, persistent throb, and arranged the last of the black lilies into a circle around the central plinth. Her hands trembled, not from the cold, though the dampness seeped through her wool...

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