The stars hung low in the sky, casting shifting shadows across the land. A stifling wind whistled through the barren trees, their branches twisting towards the heavens like skeletal fingers. Beneath this desolate landscape, a forgotten figure made. Their footsteps were soft, swallowed by the hissing thorns that enveloped the ground. Each thorn was

The air chokes us with the scent of decay. Every step slices against the sharp ground, a constant reminder of the world's cruelty. We exist in this landscape of anguish, where trust is a luxury and compassion a burden. Our lives are shaped by the thorns that entwine us, scarring our souls with their relentless unyielding touch. Whispers tell o