The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-20 09:42:05 -

The fire does not roar. It sighs, a dry, rattling exhalation that eats the timber of the old manor house until the very bones of the structure are exposed to the night air. You stand in the courtyard, the heat pressing against your face like a physical weight, and you watch the roof collapse in slow, heavy folds. The stars above are indifferent, cold pinpricks in the black velvet of the sky,...

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