The Wistful Witness

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2026-08-20 11:38:08 -

The first frost had not yet claimed the garden, but the air in the study smelled of decay, a sweet, cloying rot that seemed to seep from the very walls of the ancestral hall, a scent that clung to my skin and settled in the back of my throat like a stone, marking the precise moment when the boundary between the known world and the unseen began to dissolve, for it was on this grey, late October...

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