The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-17 13:19:06 -

The Wistful Petal

The mud was thick, a brown paste that sucked at their boots with a wet, gluttonous sound. Thomas didn't look up. He kept his eyes fixed on the cobbles ahead, counting the cracks, measuring the distance between the wet stones. He was seven, and the weight of the wooden cross he carried was a solid, cold thing against his back. It was heavy, heavier than his body, heavier than the fear that...

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