The Wistful Asylum
You stand in the center of the room, the air thick with the smell of damp wool and old brass. It is a space that does not belong to any map you have ever studied, a corridor that stretches out into a grey, humming void where the walls breathe like the flank of a sleeping beast. You are a man who has spent his life holding the line, a soldier whose duty was to define the border between order and...
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