The Distant Promise

ha aggiunto una foto Literature

2026-08-19 08:15:50 -

The iron gates of the Chateau de Virelles were not merely closed; they were fused, the metal weeping with centuries of rust and a thick, black slime that smelled of rotting lilies. I stood before them in the driving rain, my wool coat soaked through to the skin, the cold biting into my bones with a persistence that felt less like weather and more like judgment. I was not supposed to be here. I...

0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima