The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-18 02:37:09 -

The rain had not ceased for three days, a persistent, cold weeping that turned the cobblestones of the old watchtower into slick mirrors of the grey sky, and I stood at the edge of the rampart, my hand resting upon the hilt of a sword that had not tasted blood in a year, feeling the weight of the silence pressing against my eardrums. I had come here to say goodbye to the world, or so it seemed...

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