The Pale Bonsai

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-19 14:35:38 -

The Pale Bonsai

The ice cracked first. Not with a bang. A whisper. A thin, white thread of sound that split the silence of the vault. I stood in the center of the chamber. My hands were bound. The rope bit into my wrists. It smelled of wet wool and old blood. I was the Warden. Or I had been. Before the shift. Before the fog rolled in and took the shape of men who knew my name. The room was stone. Cold. It...

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