The Wistful Campus

bir ses eklendi Literature

2026-08-19 15:11:50 -

The gate was iron. Rust bled down its face like old wounds. I stood before it. The air smelled of wet stone and rot. My boots were heavy. Mud clung to the soles. I had walked for three days. My legs burned. My mind was quiet. Too quiet. The silence was a weapon. It cut deep. I was a soldier. I wore the uniform of the Crown. But I was no one now. Just flesh. Just bone. Just breath. The castle...

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