Cold.
It's so cold.
It's dark.
This cave, it calls me somewhere, but where am I?
I know the sensation is foreign, but it feels so...
Familiar...
I must push on, I must find it... it's just so...
Cold.
-The Caretaker
YOU ARE READING
THE CHARRED SCRIBES (a rapture craft short story)
FantasyA series of scribes written by someone known as the caretaker... what could this mean? (Final chapter writing is not written by me but a friend who is far better at storytelling than me. First 5 are mine tho)
