The Wistful Mirror

أضاف وظيفة جديدة Literature

2026-08-18 05:37:11 -

The iron bar of the gate shrieked against the stone of the keep, a sound like a dying animal tearing through the thick, grey morning fog that clung to the ramparts of Aethelgard, and I stood there with my hand still wrapped around the hilt of my sword, my knuckles white and trembling not from the cold which bit at my face like the teeth of a wolf, but from the sudden, terrifying realization...

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