The Wistful Dinner

added blog Literature

2026-08-23 09:41:03 -

The oak leaf in Silas’s palm had turned black, its veins pulsing with a low, painful hum that vibrated up his wrist and into his teeth. He stood at the edge of the watchtower, looking out over the mist-choked borderlands of the Old Kingdom, where the fog rolled in thick and grey, swallowing the skeletal trees whole. Silas was thirty years old, a border warden with a face hardened by wind and...

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