The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-19 09:45:43 -

The Wistful Petal

The rain did not fall so much as it hung, a grey, suspended curtain over the village of Oakhaven, where the cobblestones wept with a silence that felt heavier than water. Thomas Bradshaw stood at the threshold of the bakery, his hands trembling not from the cold but from the sheer, crushing weight of the loaves he carried. These were not ordinary breads. They were the Sins of the Father, baked...

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