The Faded Frequency

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-18 02:34:42 -

The mud on my knuckles was the color of dried blood, a viscous paste that had hardened against the skin of my hands as I held the pommel of the sword, my breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps that tasted of iron and old dust. I stood in the center of the town square, the cobblestones slick with the rain that had started an hour before and refused to stop, while the crowd gathered at the...

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