The Wistful Atlas

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 05:42:48 -

The Wistful Atlas

The rain hit the black leather of my uniform. It drummed a cold, rhythmic beat against my shoulders. I stood in the center of the Grand Hall. The stone floor was wet. The air smelled of damp wool and old roses. This is the Palace. But not the one we know. This is the Palace of the Skin. I am a Warden. My job is simple. I keep the order. I keep the silence. My father sits on the high dais. He is...

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