The Distant Promise

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2026-08-17 21:32:26 -

The rain did not fall so much as it was exhaled by the sky, a cold, persistent breath that seeped through the slate roof of the Old Warden’s House. I stood before the great oak desk, its surface scarred by a century of ink and iron, and watched the water bead and slide down the dark wood. It was a mirror of my own state, I thought. Damp, heavy, and slowly losing its shape. “You’re late,...

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