The Wistful Atlas

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 21:44:19 -

The Wistful Atlas

The fog rolled in off the moor, thick as wool, swallowing the stone walls of the village. It was a cold that bit through bone. Silas stood at the edge of the cliff, his coat buttoned to the chin. He held a lantern, though the flame was barely a whisper in the gray. He was looking for a body. Or so he told himself. Or so he told the magistrate. The magistrate sat in the warmth of the inn,...

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