The Faded Frontier

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-19 16:18:22 -

The rain does not fall so much as it presses against the glass of the great hall, a wet, grey hand trying to push its way into the warmth, into the scent of beeswax and old paper that clings to the velvet seats, and you stand there, holding your tools, your hands trembling not from the cold but from the sheer, crushing weight of the silence that has swallowed the court, for everyone is watching...

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