The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-18 07:50:40 -

The Wistful Petal

The marble floor of the Hall of Records was cold enough to seep through the soles of my boots and settle into the marrow of my shins, a chill that did not recede despite the warmth of the afternoon sun filtering through the high, arched windows, and I stood there holding the brass key to the East Wing, its surface worn smooth by the hands of men who had believed in the permanence of stone,...

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