The Wistful Voyage

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2026-08-19 07:28:18 -

The air tasted of copper and burnt sugar. It was a thick, cloying sweetness that sat on the tongue like a bruise, and young Thomas Whitmore spat it out onto the cobblestones that were not cobblestones but the hardened backs of sleeping giants. He stood in the center of the Square of Whispers, a place where time did not tick but pooled, deep and stagnant, around the ankles of the passersby. They...

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