The Wistful Mirror
The silence in the house of Aelric Vane was not an absence of sound but a heavy, textured presence that pressed against the eardrums like deep water, a silence that had accumulated over centuries of whispered secrets and unspoken griefs, settling into the floorboards and the very grain of the ancient oak beams that supported the rotting weight of his life. He sat in the high-backed chair by the...
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