The Wistful Voyage

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 19:42:01 -

The dream was always the same. A black crow, large as a raven, perched on his desk. Its beak snapped shut on his left hand, tearing flesh and bone. Thomas woke with a gasp, the sweat cold on his brow. It was the year of our Lord 1348, and the air in the scriptorium tasted of iron and old parchment. Thomas was thirty years old, the Abbot’s chief clerk, and he wanted only one thing: to secure his...

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