The Wistful Cipher

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2026-08-18 04:47:32 -

The hall smelled of roasting lamb and wet wool, a thick, cloying scent that clung to the back of my throat. It was the Feast of Saint Jude, and every soul in the village of Oakhaven was present, crammed into the stone-walled great house of Lord Ashworth. The fire crackled in the hearth, throwing long, dancing shadows across the faces of the guests. I sat at the high table, my hands folded in my...

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