The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-18 22:12:22 -

The wind howled through the iron lattices of the Bastion, a sound that was less like air and more like the grinding of tectonic plates, a geological complaint that had been accumulating for three centuries. You stood at the edge of the abyss, your fingers white-knuckled on the cold steel of the railing, watching the mist churn below in a churning, violent grey. The mist was not merely weather...

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