The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-18 21:18:19 -

The Wistful Petal

The rain did not fall; it struck. It hammered against the iron visor of my helm with a rhythmic, deafening persistence, a drumbeat that synced itself to the thrumming of my own failing heart. I stood in the mud of the King’s Highway, my greaves sunk to the knee in a slurry of clay and blood, and I looked up. Above me, suspended in the grey twilight of a sky that seemed to have forgotten the...

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