The Faded Portrait

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-20 06:12:15 -

"You have no right here," the man said. His voice was soft, but it cut like a wire. I stood in the corridor of the Grand Hall. The air smelled of old varnish and rain. I was not supposed to be there. I was a prisoner of my own silence. The man was Sir Julian. He wore a suit the color of dried blood. His eyes were flat stones. "Look at you," he continued. "A ghost with a map." I did not answer....

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