The Wistful Atlas
The rain hits the glass. It drums. It screams. You are in the room. The room is small. The air is thick. It smells of damp wool and old paper. You are the investigator. You are the seeker. You look for the truth. You look for the map. Your hands are shaking. Your hands are the map. You have spent ten years. Ten years in the cold. Ten years in the dark. You have hunted the shadow. The shadow is...
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