The Faded Ruin

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2026-08-25 22:32:21 -

The Faded Ruin

Angelina D'Angelo was twelve years old and her hands were cracked from the cold, a fact that made the High Steward’s smile seem less like mercy and more like a flinch. She stood in the center of the antechamber, the air heavy with wet wool and old paper, clutching a vial of crushed moon-moss so tightly her knuckles were white. The moss pulsed inside the glass, a faint, rhythmic blue light that...

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