The Wistful Ashes

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2026-08-20 12:22:19 -

The Wistful Ashes

The smell of burnt sugar and ozone hung heavy in the air of the Undermarket, a scent that Elias Thorne had come to associate with the taste of his own forgetting. He stood at the head of his long, scarred oak table, the surface polished by decades of frantic, desperate hands, and watched the steam rise from the porcelain cup before him. It was not coffee, nor was it tea, though it mimicked the...

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