Bones Beneath the Ember

A tale of the Veiled The iron sank, the red thread spilled, the soil drank deep, the roots were filled. No grave was marked, no stone was laid, yet in the dark, his bones remade. Blades rust to fruit, war fades to limb, the wind hums songs not meant for him. Forgotten hands still shape the shade a warrior gone, a world , weirdcore, comfort, creepypasta, peaceful, eerie, dream, folktales