The Wistful Letter

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 19:32:37 -

The iron gate groans. It is the sound of a throat clearing before a scream. You stand before the Keep. The stones are wet. The mist clings to your skin like a cold lover. It is night. Or perhaps it is dawn. The light is grey. The light is dead. You do not know the time. Time is a luxury you can no longer afford. Your feet are bare. The cobblestones bite. You do not flinch. You have forgotten...

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