The Wistful Asylum

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 12:21:35 -

The mist clung to the walls of the Hall. It was thick. It smelled of wet stone. It smelled of old iron. I sat in my cell. The door was locked. The lock was cold. I touched it. It burned my skin. They called it the Order of the Silent Veil. It was a place for those who spoke too much. Or those who remembered too well. I was not a prisoner. I was a guest. That was what the Warden said. He wore a...

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