The Faded Attic
The air in the tower room tastes of iron and old dust, a metallic tang that coats the back of your throat before you even realize you have drawn a breath. You stand before the window, the glass so thick and warped by centuries of heat and soot that the world outside is merely a suggestion, a blurred watercolor of grey stone and leaden sky. Below, the courtyard is empty, save for the slow,...
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