The Wistful Voyage

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2026-08-19 08:22:20 -

The rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a fine, cold mist that settled into the pores of the skin and stayed there. In the high tower of Blackwood Hall, a place where the stone walls were thick enough to swallow sound, Marcus stood before the mirror. He was a man carved from the same granite as the house, rigid and silent. His uniform, a dark thing of wool and brass, fit him with a...

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