The Wistful Witness

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2026-08-18 03:41:44 -

The rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, grey veil that turned the cobblestones of the manor house into slick, dark mirrors reflecting the flickering candlelight of the library. You sat in the high-backed chair of oak and velvet, your fingers stained with the ink of a quill that felt less like a tool and more like a bone held in your hand, a relic of a time when words were carved...

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