The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-22 12:50:47 -

The Faded Bouquet

Elias Thorne. The name hung in the air, a summons I could not ignore, though no one was there to speak it. I woke with the taste of iron on my tongue and the weight of damp petals in my palms. It was the dream again. Clara, pale as paper, pressing the bouquet into my hands, her fingers cold and rigid. I sat up. The room was dark, the November light barely a bruise against the windowpane. I...

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