The Wistful Ashes

added blog Literature

2026-08-25 05:35:17 -

The Wistful Ashes

The iron scales in the apothecary’s back room were heavy, cold things, and I had weighed every grain of the black powder in my pocket three times before I dared to knock on the door. My knuckles were white from the grip I had kept on the vial for the last hour, the glass warm against my palm despite the chill in the air. I was thirty years old, a constable in Oakhaven, and I had come to break a...

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