The Wistful Voyage

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2026-08-19 05:22:44 -

The bell in the tower of St. Jude’s did not ring for the living, but for the silence that had settled over the village of Oakhaven like a shroud of gray wool. I stood at the edge of the cobblestone square, my hands trembling not from the biting November wind, but from the weight of the object wrapped in oilcloth in my satchel. It was a cloak, or at least it had been, woven from a fiber so fine...

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