The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-18 16:13:36 -

The Faded Bouquet

The wind did not howl; it whispered, a dry, papery sound against the high windows of the Keep. It was the sound of old parchment tearing, of secrets drying out in the sun until they could be lifted from the page without breaking. Margaret stood at the threshold, her breath hitching in her chest like a trapped bird. Her hands, raw and cracked from the cold, clutched the hem of her woolen dress....

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