The Wistful Ashes
The ledger showed forty-two hours of labor remaining before the next ration. Maren counted the stitches in the torn hem of her work tunic, each pull of the needle a small, sharp act of defiance against the dull ache in her fingers. She had been a medium for twenty years, sensing the cold spots where the dead lingered, but here in Oakhaven, that gift was a debt. The Council taxed her...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare