The Wistful Atlas

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2026-08-19 02:02:17 -

The Wistful Atlas

The rain did not fall so much as it existed, a heavy, gray curtain that erased the line between the cobblestones of the courtyard and the iron gates of the keep. Thomas stood in the center of the yard, his hands still trembling from the cold, though the air was damp and still. He was not a man who trembled. For twenty years, he had been the sword arm of the Lord High Warden, a figure carved...

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