The Wistful Ashes

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2026-08-22 13:28:07 -

The Wistful Ashes

The ink was black, but the world was gray. I sat at the desk, the wood worn smooth by decades of elbows, and waited for the Overseer to speak. He did not look at me. He looked at the wall, where the Ash fell in a steady, silent curtain. "Your hand shakes, Elias," he said. His voice was dry, like paper rubbing against stone. "The Debt requires precision. You have three days to transcribe the...

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