The Wistful Throne

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-19 16:41:37 -

I was a tree. Or so it felt. My roots were buried deep in the cold, wet clay of the valley floor. My branches reached up, thin and brittle, into a sky that was not a sky. It was a dome of pale, shifting fog. I could not see my body. I could not move my legs. I was fixed. I was still. The silence was heavy. It pressed against my ears. My name was Elara. Or it had been. Names felt distant now....

0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 3 Views 0 previzualizare