The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-23 06:55:47 -

The Wistful Petal

"Thorne, do you hear me?" The Archivist did not answer. He was too busy coughing, a wet, rattling sound that seemed to originate from the very stones of the library floor. I stood in the doorway, my hand pressed flat against the rough oak of the frame, feeling the wood’s cold dampness seep into my skin. In my palm, the Petal pulsed. It was a thin, translucent thing, the color of a bruise, and...

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