The Wistful Witness

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2026-08-19 01:05:40 -

The rain fell on the ridge like a curtain of iron needles. It was cold, a deep, marrow-chilling damp that soaked through wool and leather. Silas stood at the edge of the cliff, his sword lowered. He was an old man. His hair was white, his face a map of scars and weather. He had been a judge for forty years. He had sentenced men to the gallows. He had signed papers that ended lives. He believed...

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