The Wistful Witness

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2026-08-17 18:42:08 -

The house breathed. It was a slow, wet inhalation that pulled the damp from the air and settled it into the stones. Elara stood in the center of the Great Hall, her hand pressed against the cold oak banister. The wood was slick. It sweated. She did not wipe her hand. She needed to feel the pulse of the place. It was dying. The rot had started in the cellar, she knew. It had climbed the walls...

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