The Wistful Saga

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2026-08-17 08:56:23 -

The Wistful Saga

The air in the cellar tasted of rust and wet chalk, a metallic tang that coated the back of my throat before I could even draw a full breath. It was the smell of the old steam engines, those iron beasts that had once powered the textile mills of Ashworth Valley, now silent skeletons in the dark. I sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, my knees aching from the damp, holding a small, ceramic...

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