The Distant Journey

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 17:19:49 -

The rain fell like static. It hissed against the copper roof of the Watchtower. Silas stood by the window. His hands were still. They were always still. He held the blade. It was a short thing. Iron and bone. Worn smooth. The edge was gone. It had never been sharp. It was a tool for feeling. Not for cutting. Outside, the city of Oakhaven burned. Not with fire. With light. The gas lamps swirled...

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