The Wistful Asylum

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2026-08-17 15:00:56 -

The rain did not fall; it hung, a suspended grey curtain that blurred the edge of the world. I stood in the center of the room, the air thick with the scent of damp wool and something sweeter, cloying, like overripe fruit left too long in the sun. My hands were bound behind my back, the rope biting into my wrists with a familiar, cold intimacy. I was a soldier, or I had been, before the...

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