The Distant Nightmare

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2026-08-20 10:30:01 -

The tower stood. It was not a ruin. It was new. Wren climbed. His hands bled. He did not care. He was not a man. He was a draft. A sketch. A ghost with a pulse. The air tasted of iron and old rain. "Stop," the voice said. It came from the stones. From the mortar. From the silence between the bricks. Wren stopped. He looked up. A figure sat on a ledge. High. Too high. The figure smiled. "You are...

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