The Wistful Ashes

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2026-08-18 23:36:46 -

The Wistful Ashes

The candle gutters. You press your back against the cold stone. The air is thick with the scent of wet wool and old blood. You are in the antechamber. The door is locked. You know this because you turned the key. You know this because you held it. You are the inquisitor. Or rather, you are the hand that holds the pen. The High Lord sits beyond the heavy oak screen. His voice is a dry leaf...

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