The Wistful Ashes

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2026-08-19 14:59:56 -

The Wistful Ashes

The fire did not start with a spark, but with a whisper that tore through the silence of the manor like a scream. It began in the east wing, where the tapestries hung heavy with dust and the memory of centuries, and it ate the wood with a hunger that seemed personal. Thomas Bradshaw stood at the window of his study, the glass fogging against his palm, watching the orange veins of flame pulse...

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