The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-19 05:58:35 -

The tower stands. It is stone. It is old. I am old. I climb. The stairs spiral. My lungs burn. The air is thin. It tastes of dust. It tastes of time. I am Edward Ashworth. I was a king. Or I thought I was. Now I am a ghost. I am a memory that refuses to fade. I am the exile within the exile. The tower is my home. The tower is my prison. The tower is my body. I reach the top. The room is small....

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