The Wistful Witness

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2026-08-19 20:14:07 -

The oak tree in the royal garden did not move. It stood at the center of the courtyard, a black pillar against the pale, winter sky, its branches bare and rigid as bone. I watched it from the shadow of the throne room’s archway, my hands clasped tightly behind my back to stop them from shaking. I was twelve years old, the youngest scribe in the court of King Alaric, and I was afraid. Not of the...

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