The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-20 01:10:16 -

The rain had not stopped for three days. It fell in a gray, relentless curtain against the leaded glass of the window, blurring the city into a smear of soot and stone. Elias Thorne sat in the corner of his cell, his hands folded in his lap, resting on the rough fabric of his uniform. The wool was damp. It clung to his skin like a second, colder layer. He did not shiver. He had stopped...

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