The Architecture of Paranoia
A castle crowned the mountain’s jagged peak, Where torchlight bled and died on ice-grey floor, And something old moved through the stones to speak— A presence that had not been there before. One whisper branded him with a hidden mark, A name half-formed that only he could hear— No face. No proof. No shadow. Just the dark. But kings are built of nothing else but fear. He watched him kneel, this…









