The Faded Attic

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2026-08-18 11:19:21 -

The Faded Attic

The watchtower smelled of wet stone and old blood. Elias stood alone. Rain lashed the glass. It was cold. Very cold. He tightened his gloves. Leather creaked. "Is he here?" he asked. Silence answered. Below, the moor was black. A void. The mist swallowed the horizon. Elias did not blink. His eyes burned. He stared into the grey nothing. He had waited three days. Three days of rain. Three days...

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