The Wistful Ashes

added blog Literature

2026-08-24 04:19:16 -

The Wistful Ashes

The flame licked the corner of the page, curling the vellum into a brittle, brown claw. I held it with the tongs, my knuckles white, the heat searing the air in front of my face. The Iron Spire smelled of sulfur and old dust, a scent that had settled into my pores so deeply I no longer knew where my skin ended and the building began. My hands shook. Not from fear. From the weight of the soot. I...

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