The Wistful Voyage

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 05:32:11 -

The hall was cold. It had always been cold. The stone floor bit through the soles of my boots, a familiar, biting truth. I stood in the center of the chamber, hands clasped behind my back. My fingers were stained with ink. It never washed out. It was part of me now. Lord Ashworth sat on the high chair. He did not look at me. He looked at the map on the table before him. The map was old. The...

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