The Wistful Saga

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2026-08-19 01:07:45 -

The Wistful Saga

The table was a long slab of polished oak, stretching into the dim, suffocating haze of the room, and it was covered, not with food, but with your own history. You are sitting at the head, though you are the lowest, and the air tastes of copper and old dust, a metallic tang that coats the back of your throat like a promise kept too late. The plates before the other guests are empty, but yours...

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