The Distant Promise

added blog Literature

2026-08-24 07:07:20 -

The wax was warm, sticky, and smelled of tallow and old blood. Thomas held it in his left hand, the only hand that did not tremble, while his right gripped the hem of his brother’s tunic. He was twelve years old, thin as a reed, and the year was 1348. The air in the abbey cellar was thick with the scent of rot, a cloying, sweet heaviness that coated the back of his throat. His sister, Elspeth,...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews