The Wistful Skyline

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 05:25:18 -

The iron gates were cold. They were always cold, biting into the flesh of my hands even through the thick wool of my gloves. I stood before them, staring at the heavy oak door of the Keep, my breath pluming in the sharp, frost-laced air of the courtyard. The stone walls rose high above me, slick with ice, reflecting the pale, indifferent moon. I was a prisoner of my own making, or so I had told...

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