The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-23 00:59:00 -

The boar fat hissed in the iron cauldrons, a sharp, sizzling scream that cut through the low hum of the feast hall. "You have the file, Thorne. Read it." The High Warden, Silas Vane, did not look at you. He looked at the roasted leg on the table, his fork tearing into the meat with a wet, deliberate crunch. The hall was thick with the smell of smoke and stale ale, the air so heavy it felt like...

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