The Wistful Cipher
You wake in the dark. The air is thick, tasting of wet stone and old blood. You are in a cell. The walls are weeping. Water drips from the ceiling, a steady, rhythmic tick that sounds like a clock counting down to an end you cannot see. You are a soldier. You are the Warden’s man. You have kept the peace for thirty years. You know the weight of the sword and the silence of the grave. But...
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