The Wistful Atlas

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2026-08-17 17:21:59 -

The Wistful Atlas

The cart arrived at the gate of the priory just as the first snow began to fall. It was a small, unremarkable thing, drawn by a mule that wheezed in the cold air. The driver, a boy of no more than twelve, stood beside it, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of a wool coat that hung too large on his frame. He did not look up. He did not speak. He simply waited for the iron door to creak...

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