The Wistful Mirror
The stone tower did not breathe. It stood against the grey belly of the city, a vertical silence in a world that screamed. It was old, older than the cobblestones that curled around its base like dried veins, older than the laws that governed the merchants below. It was a structure of pure geometry, unadorned and cold, rising into the mist with a stubbornness that defied the wind. To the people...
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