The Wistful Asylum

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 12:06:50 -

The year was 1348, and the air in the tower room tasted of iron and old dust. Sir Alistair stood before the cracked glass, his reflection fractured into a dozen jagged shards. He was forty years old, a man whose face had been mapped by the long wars of the north, yet his hands trembled now with a fine, persistent vibration that he could not still. The mirror did not show his face clearly; it...

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