The Faded Frontier

added blog Literature

2026-08-25 06:15:38 -

The audit is in three days, and my hands shake when I hold the pen, a tremor that the Magistrate calls age but I know is the soil taking its toll. I write this from the station at Kael, where the fog sits heavy as wet wool, and I am thinking of the copper ingot shaped like an oxhide that sits in my pocket, warm against my thigh. I remember the day I left the ferry slip, twenty-three of the...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews