Writing Prompt: Cauldron
Beneath the gnarled roots of the ancient hawthorn, where moonlight dares not tread, the cauldron rests. Its iron sides etched with runes long forgotten, pulsing faintly with a rhythm like a slow, slee...
Beneath the gnarled roots of the ancient hawthorn, where moonlight dares not tread, the cauldron rests. Its iron sides etched with runes long forgotten, pulsing faintly with a rhythm like a slow, slee...