The rain over Fort Marrok fell in sheets, turning the ancient parade ground into a mirror of mud and sky. It had been seventeen years since the fort was officially abandoned—seventeen years since the last regiment marched out, their brass buttons tarnished, their eyes fixed on the distant railroad depot.
She crossed the parade ground, her boots sucking at the mud. The well was a black mouth in the earth, rimmed with moss-slicked stones. The humming grew louder as she approached—not a melody, but a single, sustained note, like a tuning fork struck against eternity. fort marrok
In the silence, she heard footsteps behind her. The rain over Fort Marrok fell in sheets,
The figure tilted its head. Rain ran off its hat in silver curtains. their brass buttons tarnished
She took the key.