The Wistful Petal
The sky broke open on the night of my arrival. Not with rain, but with a silence so heavy it crushed the breath from my lungs. I stood at the edge of the moor, my boots sinking into the wet peat, and watched the stars extinguish one by one. They did not fade. They vanished, as if erased by a dark thumb. This was the first sign. The second was the sound of the wind, which no longer whispered but...
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