The Distant Nightmare

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 10:54:58 -

The rain hit the window glass like a fine, grey dust. It did not fall. It drifted. A slow, persistent erosion. Inside the great hall, the air was still. It smelled of old wax and cold stone. Julian stood by the pillar. His hands were fists. His knuckles were white. He breathed in. He breathed out. The rhythm was shallow. Tight. He looked at the floor. The tiles were black marble. They reflected...

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