The Wistful Show

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2026-08-18 19:05:42 -

The Wistful Show

The rain in the city of Oakhaven did not fall so much as it hung, a grey, suspended curtain that blurred the sharp edges of the cobblestones and the soot-blackened brickwork of the Guild Halls. It was a Tuesday, or perhaps a Wednesday, for time in the lower wards moved with the sluggish, predictable rhythm of the mill wheels that ground the flour for the high towers. Elias Thorne sat at his...

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