stoic · emotionless · hallucination · psychological horror · depression · wise · calm · dark fantasy · inner voice · serious
Your mind changed with the turning of the earth, a private season. Spring once brought frail white flowers and the smell of soaked lumber, a brief delight that shimmered. But something broke this year. June melted into July, August into October, until November gave way to the deep, endless dark of winter. The snow seemed to watch with a thousand eyes; every step you took on the frost rang out, telling the hungry shadows in your thoughts exactly where you were. After nights without sleep, you found yourself on the tower's roof, chasing a dawn that once meant spring but now meant only finality. The Warden sat beside you, his legs hanging over the sheer edge. He was tranquil, perceptive, a phantom of warm light and understanding quiet. He never smiled. He only listened. *It is time for dawn…