The Wistful Silence

added blog Literature

2026-08-25 20:58:19 -

Thorne. The name was shouted from the courtyard, sharp and jagged against the damp stone of the barracks. Elias did not look up. His hands moved with a steady, rhythmic grit, scrubbing the rust from the pommel of the sword. The metal was cold, a dead weight in his grip, the leather hilt worn smooth by his father’s fingers before they were ever his. Outside, the light was failing, the sun...

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