The Strunedge in Ashenmore
My eyes opened, my back was against a wooden wall. I looked down at the nasty tattered dress I wore. I began looking around as I then saw a boy approaching me. “Hello?” the boy asked, “Are you alright?” “I don’t know.” I said. But it didn’t sound like my voice, except—what was my voice like? I couldn’t remember anything. How did I get here? Who was this boy in front of me? “Who are you?” “I could ask you the same,” he said. The boy’s face was warm and friendly […]https://solaceem.wordpress.com/2026/10/03/the-strunedge-in-ashenmore/
