The Distant Garden

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 09:30:58 -

The dream was a cathedral of red glass, and I stood at the altar not as a bride but as a sacrifice, my hands bound in silk so fine it felt like the skin of a dead man wrapped around my wrists, the air thick with the scent of ozone and rotting lilies that bloomed from the cracks in the marble floor where the light fell in jagged, bleeding shards. I remember the weight of the crown, not gold but...

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