The Wistful Ashes

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2026-08-19 01:29:32 -

The Wistful Ashes

The smoke that filled the Hall of Whispers did not smell of fire, but of burnt sugar and old paper, a cloying sweetness that coated the back of my throat and clung to the fine wool of my coat. I stood before the High Council, a circle of twelve men who had once been my colleagues, my friends, perhaps even my brothers in arms against the chaos of the pre-war world, and I felt the weight of their...

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