The Wistful Letter
The iron key is cold, a slab of metal that seems to weigh more than the hand holding it, heavy with the specific gravity of duty. It rests in your palm, Elias Thorne, thirty-two, warden of the Blackwood Asylum, a weight that has become the only anchor in a sea of shifting glass. You are here to secure your pension, to prove to the board that the new director, Silas, is sane, yet the mirrors in...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews