The Wistful Saga

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2026-08-22 21:49:22 -

The Wistful Saga

The shard bit into Arthur Vane’s thumb, drawing a bead of dark blood that mixed with the dust on the workbench. He did not flinch. The piece of obsidian was cold, heavier than glass should be, and it trembled in his grip like a dying bird. Around him, the attic of the old mill was a graveyard of paper and rot, smelling of damp wool and the metallic tang of rusted hinges. He had been here for...

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