The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-20 05:55:35 -

I woke up with the taste of iron and old pennies on my tongue, a metallic tang that seemed to have seeped into the marrow of my bones, a sensation that was both familiar and profoundly alien, as if my own blood had changed its allegiance while I slept. The air in the room was thick, humid, and tasted of wet stone, a dampness that clung to the skin like a second, heavier coat. I knew this place....

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