The Wistful Voyage

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2026-08-18 16:18:15 -

The storm broke at dawn. It was not a gradual affair. The sky over the harbor did not gray. It bruised. A sudden, violent purple, then a black so absolute it swallowed the horizon. The wind arrived with a scream, tearing the awning from the café next door. Glass shattered on the wet pavement. The smell of ozone and wet concrete filled the air. Inside the bunker, the air was still. The bunker...

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