The Wistful Ashes

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2026-08-20 10:23:00 -

The Wistful Ashes

You are not supposed to be here. The thought arrives before you do, a cold wire tightening around your chest as the fog lifts from the river. You have crossed the border. Not the physical line, marked by rusted posts and forgotten wire, but the line between what you were and what you are becoming. The air tastes of iron and wet slate. It is the taste of industry. It is the taste of the end....

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