The Faded Attic
Maren woke with the taste of iron on her tongue. It was a cold, metallic tang that coated her teeth and lingered in the back of her throat. She lay still in the narrow cot, staring at the stone ceiling. Dust motes danced in the single shaft of pale light that cut through the high, barred window. The air in the room was thick and stale. It smelled of damp wool and old paper. She had been...
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