The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-18 08:52:25 -

The train hissed. Steam. Cold air. Captain Silas Vane sat by the window. He held a small brass compass. It was his brother’s. It was broken. The needle spun. It did not point north. It pointed at his own thumb. Silas watched the countryside blur. Fields. Trees. Gray sky. The train moved fast. He felt the vibration in his teeth. He was going to the Citadel. The High Court. He was a soldier. He...

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