The Faded Frontier

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-19 12:34:16 -

The rain hammered the tin roof of the watchtower. It was a rhythmic, metallic pounding. It did not stop. "Report," I said. My voice was flat. Controlled. I stood at the edge of the platform. The mist swirled around my boots. It smelled of wet iron and rot. The tower was the only thing holding the sky up in this valley. We called it the Spire. The men below called it the Eye. I checked my...

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