The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-18 18:25:09 -

The rain hit the slate roof like a thousand tiny fists. It hammered the glass. I watched the water streak down. The view was gone. Just gray. Just wet. I stood in the center of the hall. The marble floor was cold under my boots. My boots were heavy. My hands were empty. They were always empty now. I had put the sword away. I had hung it on the hook. It looked small. It looked dead. I looked at...

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