The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-18 21:57:54 -

The wind on the high moor did not howl so much as it whispered, a low, persistent friction against the eardrums that sounded disturbingly like the static of a radio tuned between stations. Captain Elias Thorne walked at the head of the column, his boots sinking into the peat with a wet, sucking sound that seemed to pull him downward into the earth. Behind him, the silence of the convoy...

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