The Wistful Atlas

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 09:14:10 -

The Wistful Atlas

The mud sucked at my boots with a wet, desperate sound. It was the sound of a throat clearing. Around me, the forest was not a forest. It was a wall of green silence, breathing. I held the staff tight. The wood was cold. My hands shook. Not from fear. From the cold. The cold that lived in the bones of the dead. I am a scholar of things that do not exist. That is what they call it. A...

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews