The Wistful Mirror

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-23 08:30:20 -

The wind did not howl in the Hall of the High Marshal; it whispered, a thin, dry sound that scraped against the stone like the fingernails of the dead. Sir Aldric stood before the dais, his hands clasped behind his back to hide the tremor that had taken root in his joints, a palsy that crept in with the first gray hairs at his temples. He was forty-five, an age that should have been the peak of...

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