The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-20 08:12:40 -

The ice cracked. It did not shatter. It sang. A high, thin note that cut through the static of the air. I stood on the other side of the lake. My boots were wet. My chest was heaving. The cold was a physical weight, pressing against my ribs, squeezing the air out of my lungs. "Thomas?" The voice came from the ice. It was not a voice. It was a ripple. A distortion in the blue surface. I looked...

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