The Wistful Asylum

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 14:17:59 -

The rain did not fall; it hammered. It struck the obsidian windows of the High Tower with the force of a thousand small fists, blurring the world outside into a smear of grey and green. I stood in the center of the circular room, my boots slick with mud and something darker, my hands trembling not from cold but from the sheer, crushing weight of the silence that followed the violence. The...

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