Churning Icy Embers

The frost clings to the edges of his soul, a brittle shell that cracks under the weight of forgotten pain. Each breath is a shard of ice, a testament to the bitter chill that has woven its way within him. But even in this wasteland of emptiness, a spark remains. A flicker of defiance, a whisper of longing that refuses to be extinguished. It breaths

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