The Wistful Witness

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2026-08-19 05:30:14 -

The mist rolled in from the harbor, thick and white, smelling of brine and old iron. It clung to the cobblestones of the town square, erasing the edges of the market stalls until only the sounds remained. The clatter of fish scales. The low murmur of buyers. The creak of a wooden cart. Elias stood by the fountain, his hands clasped behind his back. He was a tall man, thin as a reed, with a face...

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