Brine and Sorrow

​Lamplight caught the obsidian carriage window.

​Arthur leered at his own reflection, a tremor in his fingers betraying the perfect composure of his face. With a practiced, steady hand, he adjusted the collar of his coat.

​A single, treasonous tear slipped from the corner of his eye.

​He didn't wipe it away. Not yet.

It burned a path down his cheek to his lips, and he tasted brine and sorrow.

​His eyes hardened into a cold resolve as he tore the white silken bow from his throat and let it fall to the dirt.

In one graceful, calculated motion, he pivoted in his velvet sabatons and mounted the grand marble staircase.

Lightning tore through the night sky, and in that brilliant flash, it betrayed bewildered hazel eyes on the other side.

​The flash vanished, and in the sudden dark, a man who saw nothing but himself continued a solitary ascent.





Note: The writing is wholly my work, but I used an AI tool to help me visualise the story. This is the result.


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