The Wistful Asylum

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 19:26:39 -

The wagon wheels bit into the mud as we left the village, the sound a wet, rhythmic crunch that seemed to echo in my own chest. I did not look back. There was no reason to. The house was gone, sold to pay the debts of a dead man’s ambition, and I was a widow in a world that had no use for widows who refused to break. My name is Silas Vane. I am a carpenter. Or I was. Before the Council, I built...

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