The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-20 05:41:08 -

The rain had not stopped for three days. It drummed against the slate roof of the magistrate’s office, a relentless, wet percussion that matched the beating of my own heart. I sat in the corner, my uniform damp and heavy, the wool clinging to my ribs like a second skin. The room smelled of damp wool, stale tobacco, and the metallic tang of fear. Captain Halloway stood by the window, his back to...

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