The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-18 13:48:17 -

I woke with the taste of iron and stale bread in my mouth. The air in the tent was thick, heavy with the smell of damp wool and the distinct, cloying sweetness of the dried meat we carried for the long trek north. It was the meat that had kept us alive for three days, that stringy, dark thing my brother Elias had cured in the shade of the pines before we left the village. I reached for the...

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