Rima Decima

Morning spark softly spoke to the early mist. It lifts, revealing glistening crimson tiles. A bronze choir breaks the silence. A city wakes. Silver curtains billowed in the breeze, hands on the sill, a name echoes. Swiftly leaving the room, a body sunk into the ever-folding staircase. At the last two steps, a jump, a quick rush to the entrance, the gates, the square. A name echoes. Kae, my name. Shouts. Iron clashing. Through alleys, two deserters escape. One, with a sheathed dagger. The oth...