The Wistful Asylum

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-19 06:40:22 -

The iron gate groaned against the rusted hinges, a sound like a dying man clearing his throat, and I stood there in the grey mist, my hands shaking so violently I could barely grip the hilt of my sword. The air tasted of wet stone and old blood, thick with the scent of the marshland that swallowed the village of Oakhaven on three sides. I am the last of the Watch, the only one left standing...

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