The Wistful Ashes

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2026-08-17 13:59:52 -

The Wistful Ashes

The rain had stopped, but the air still held the taste of iron. It was a cold, sharp taste. Margaret sat at the head of the table. The table was long. It was made of dark oak. It looked like a slab of stone. Around her, the room was silent. The candles burned low. The wax pooled on the plate. It looked like tears. She was the eldest. She was the keeper. She knew the rules. The rules were...

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