The Wistful Asylum

ha aggiunto una foto Literature

2026-08-18 16:21:30 -

I woke with the taste of iron and wet stone in my mouth. The dream had been specific. Too specific. In it, the walls of the barracks breathed. They expanded and contracted like the ribs of a dying beast. I was not sleeping. I was standing. My hands were shaking. Not from cold. From a rage so cold it burned. The fortress was silent. The kind of silence that follows a scream. I was Sergeant Elias...

0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima