The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-18 23:07:45 -

The Faded Bouquet

The dream began not with light, but with the heavy, wet silence of the fen, where the air hung thick as wool and the reeds whispered secrets in a language older than the stone walls of the village of Harrowgate. In that somnolent haze, Ser Edmund Vane lay prone in the mud, his armor slick and cold, the iron mail digging into his shoulders with the weight of centuries, while before him, in the...

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