Rosie's Bloom
Wherever it touched, the color drained from the world.
Stone turned gray, grass wilted, and even the banners lost their red.
James stood beside me, his voice rough.
“It crossed the river,” he said. “The eastern outposts are gone.”
“Gone?” I asked.
He hesitated. “No bodies. Just silence. And smoke.”
I stared down into the valley. The fog pulsed, glowing faintly as if it breathed.
It was moving toward the fortress in waves, like a tide guided by intent.
Ace stirred inside me, restless.
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