The Wistful Asylum
"You cannot erase what is already written in the soil, Elias. The land remembers every footfall, every deed, and every lie we tell to make the ink sit still." The voice belonged to Arthur, his mentor, but Elias was awake in his apartment, the ceiling fan cutting the stale air into rhythmic slices, the clock on the nightstand reading 4:12 AM. He sat up, the sheets twisted around his legs, and...
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