The Wistful Ashes

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2026-08-20 06:15:13 -

The Wistful Ashes

The wool of the grey tunic had long since surrendered its shape, worn into a soft, matted fleece that clung to Eadmund’s shoulders like a second skin. It was a garment of function, not vanity, issued by the Keepers of the Threshold at his induction three winters ago. The fabric was thick, designed to insulate against the chill of the Undercroft, but it had absorbed so much of the damp, the...

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