Chapter 15 · free to read
He had spent three hundred years wanting a key. Now he only wanted to watch the key finish itself.
One hour. Four hundred repetitions on a gravel yard. The whole art the abbess died teaching me fits in a single held blade.
I did not devour the hall. I took hold of it — ten thousand ruined blades, all of them, and not one mouthful.
The founder's ash reached for the hungriest thing in the room. For the first time in my life, that was not me.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.