The Wistful Throne
The dream began not with light but with a heavy, suffocating weight, a pressure against the chest that felt less like a physical burden and more like the accumulated silence of a century, pressing down on the lungs until breathing became a deliberate, mechanical act of defiance against the void. In this sleepless haze, where the boundaries between the waking world and the subconscious dissolved...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews