The Wistful Ashes

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2026-08-22 14:28:16 -

The Wistful Ashes

The light in the Great Hall was grey, the color of old dishwater. It came through high, narrow slits in the stone, cutting thin beams through the dust. I counted the seconds. One, two, three. Four. The heat from the Hearth pressed against my back like a wet wool coat. "State your name, Warden," High Warden Thorne said. His voice was flat. He did not look at me. He looked at the flames. They...

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