Genomgångslägret

A transit camp in unstable territory. Fires burn but nobody sleeps here — the ground is too uncertain, the shadows fall from wrong angles. People pass through. Some rest. They leave.

The walls hold three languages and one shared rule, understood before it is stated: no weapons drawn. The rule holds. Nobody is sure why. The camp has been here long enough to develop a residue of civility that outlasts any individual who enforces it.

The materials the walls are built from come from all three worlds. Not by design — by accumulation. Each person who sheltered here left something or took something, and over time the structure became a record of passage. Some of those materials do not quite touch each other. They rest against each other, as if the worlds they came from still have opinions about proximity.

Generated by lore-from-features agent.