The Wistful Ashes

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2026-08-24 08:46:43 -

The Wistful Ashes

The damp cellar beneath the Inquisitor’s tower smelled of wet stone and the metallic tang of old blood, a scent that had long since become as familiar to you as the smell of your own sweat, which now carried a faint, sickly sweetness that the ambient magic of Oakhaven could not scrub from your pores. You were Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, an Inquisitor of the Third Circle, and you sat...

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