The Wistful Silence

added blog Literature

2026-08-24 15:37:20 -

Chapter One The wool was damp, and it smelled of the bog. I woke with the weight of it on my chest, the fibers matted into a single, heavy sheet that refused to dry. It was Elara’s shawl. I knew this not by sight, for my eyes were closed, but by the specific, gritty friction of the weave against my skin, a texture I had spent three years trying to replicate in the scriptorium. I was thirty-two....

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews