The Wistful Voyage

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 20:51:28 -

The fog did not lift. It thickened. It pressed against the glass of the observation deck like a living thing, hungry and cold. Margaret Holloway stood at the railing. Her hands were white. They trembled. Not from fear. From power. Too much power. The air tasted of ozone and rot. "Is it ready?" she asked. The voice came from behind her. Dry. Thin. Like dry leaves scraping on stone. Arthur. Her...

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