The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-19 05:20:45 -

The road into the valley of Oakhaven was not so much a path as a scar, cut deep into the mossy hills by centuries of weary boots and heavy carts. It was autumn, a time when the air tasted of iron and rotting leaves, and the sky hung low and grey, pressing down on the earth with a damp, heavy silence. Elara walked this road with a pack on her back that seemed to grow heavier with every mile. She...

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