The Wistful Show

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2026-08-18 13:32:42 -

The Wistful Show

The rain did not fall so much as it struck the glass, a rhythmic, percussive assault against the high, arched windows of the chapel’s upper gallery. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of wet wool, stale incense, and the metallic tang of fear. Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the balcony, his back to the congregation below, his hands gripping the stone railing so tightly that his knuckles...

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