The Wistful Voyage

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 06:18:07 -

The iron clasp of your breastplate bites into your skin, a cold constant against the feverish heat of the night, a metal tongue that tastes of rust and old blood. You stand at the edge of the muddy riverbank, the water black and still as a mirror, reflecting not your face but the fractured stars above. The clasp is the only thing that holds you together, the only thing that remembers the shape...

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