The Faded Attic

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2026-08-18 14:38:42 -

The Faded Attic

The carriage wheels groaned against the gravel of the long, tree-lined avenue, a sound like the tearing of old skin, as we ascended the hill toward the citadel of St. Aldous. I was not a guest, nor a soldier, nor a supplicant, though I carried in my satchel the heavy, leaden weight of secrets that the world had long since buried. I was a reader of the unseen, a midwife for the souls that...

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