The Wistful Witness

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2026-08-18 12:33:16 -

The rain fell in sheets, cold and relentless, hammering against the slate roof of the keep. I stood on the ramparts, my hands gripping the wet stone until the white knuckles ached, watching the forest below. It was dark. It was always dark now. The wind carried the scent of wet earth and iron, a smell that had seeped into the fibers of my tunic, into the very marrow of my bones. I am a man of...

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