Did you think that this would be another story abandoned to permanent hiatus, forever left frozen mid-plot?
Not so for Tales of the Pilgrims! The proofreading work on my other projects is finished, and updates shall resume next week!
In the meantime, here’s a sneak peak!
Smoke and Ember rose from the House of Ira, tendrils of flame reaching up to lick the sky. Shrieks and ear-splitting howls of beasts echoed from within its courtyard, along with crashes and cracks as timber and stone crumbled piece by piece.
The household’s servants huddled together a distance from the house, their fine tunics and hair groomed with soot. They stared into the furnace of the house, like seers trying to glean visions from bonfires, or damned souls starring into the pit of a truly awful afterlife.
“Lady Ira…” one of them whispered hoarsely.
A section of the courtyard’s second story wall exploded outward, brick shards fragmenting in tune to a plucked melody.
Someone threw out a knotted rope made from strips of torn tapestry, which coiled on the ground below. Lady Ira emerged from the gap in the wall, drawing cries of joy from her servants. She inched her way down the rope, harp slung over her shoulder, a potted plant in her other hand…