War Brews
BRISEIS The wind had not stopped howling for three days. It pressed against the castle walls like something alive, like it was trying to warn us. The sky remained the color of bruised steel, and even the servants moved with quieter steps, their whispers trailing behind them like secrets. I felt it in my bones. Something was coming. And I knew in the fragile, aching place inside my chest, that it had my name on it. Lyra was curled against me on the floor near the hearth, her small fingers tangled in the fabric of my dress. She liked sitting close, liked leaning into me as if I were something warm and permanent. “Tell it again,” she murmured sleepily. “The story?” I asked softly. She nodded. So I told her the gentle one, about the silver wolf who guarded the forest but never fright
- Writer
