The Wistful Ashes

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2026-08-23 03:22:47 -

The Wistful Ashes

The ink bled into the parchment like a slow, dark bruise, and I watched my own hand tremble as I signed the execution order for the heretic. It was the year of our Lord 1240, and I was thirty-two, a Senior Inquisitor in the sealed stone citadel of Oakhaven. I wanted the title of High Warden by the winter solstice; I had wanted it so long that the desire had calcified into a bone in my chest....

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