The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-19 20:39:56 -

The bell tower rang. It was a sound like tearing linen. Elias stood at the gate. He held a staff of iron. The iron was cold. It bit into his palm. He did not let go. Behind him, the city slept. Stone slabs. Cold air. The fog was thick. It tasted of ash. It tasted of old blood. He walked into the mist. His steps were slow. His mind was fast. He counted the stones. One. Two. Three. The rhythm...

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