Crimson Threads
## Crimson Threads The air tasted of salt and dust, a perpetual film on Anya’s tongue. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she wrestled the loom, its wooden frame groaning under the strain of vibrant silk threads. Around her, the…
dye
Read MoreCrimson Threads
Crimson Threads
## Crimson Threads The salt spray stung Marco’s cheeks as he leaned against the railing of *La Volpe*, his small trading galley slicing through the Adriatic. Dusk bled across the water, painting the sky a bruised purple above the Venetian…