The Wistful Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 09:14:10 -

The tower stood in the fog. It did not rise so much as it decayed. A spire of black basalt, pitted and weeping moss. Maren walked toward it. Her boots crunched on the gravel. The sound was sharp. It cut the silence. She was a seeker. Or so they called her. A witch. A thief of souls. The townspeople spat at her name. They crossed themselves when she passed. They locked their doors. Fear is a...

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