The Wistful Asylum

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2026-08-18 04:48:37 -

The frost bit at the edges of the windowpane, a jagged white lace that had been growing since dawn. I watched it spread, intricate and cold, across the glass of the Grand Hall. The air in the corridor was thick with the scent of lavender and old stone, a smell that had settled into the very bones of this place. My hands were trembling. They were always trembling now, a fine, persistent...

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