The Faded Road

agregó una foto Literature

2026-08-18 02:34:02 -

The Faded Road

You are the Keeper. The stone is cold against your chest. It is not a wall, but a ribcage. Your own. You press your palm flat against the breastplate. The leather creaks. It smells of wet earth and old iron. "Is it done?" the voice asks. It is soft. It comes from the dark corner of the chapel. From the space behind the altar where the shadows pool like spilled ink. "It is done," you say. Your...

0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 10 Views 0 Vista previa