The Distant Promise

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 03:12:50 -

You wake with the taste of iron on your tongue. The air is cold. It cuts through your skin. You are in a room. High ceilings. Stone walls. Dust motes dance in the shafts of grey light. They do not move. They hang. Frozen. You blink. The motes remain. You stand up. Your legs are stiff. You are wearing a coat. Dark wool. It smells of old paper. And fear. You know this place. You do not remember...

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