The Wistful Dinner

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 12:49:10 -

The sword sat on the table. It was a long, dark thing, forged from iron that had seen too much fire. The steel was pitted, not with rust, but with the memory of blood. It lay there like a dead snake, its hilt wrapped in leather so worn it looked like skin. I sat across from it. The candlelight flickered, casting long, trembling shadows against the stone walls of the keep. The air smelled of...

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