The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-18 01:36:31 -

The Wistful Petal

The heavy oak doors of the Chancery did not so much open as they parted, releasing a breath of stale air that smelled of beeswax, damp stone, and the slow, metallic decay of ambition, a scent that clung to the wool of Alderman Silas Vane’s coat and seeped into the pores of his skin with the tenacious, cloying persistence of a disease that had no cure, no name, and no mercy for those who bore...

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