The Wistful Show

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2026-08-20 15:58:43 -

The Wistful Show

The hand that had once gripped the plowshare with the tenacity of iron roots now hung limp at Elias’s side, a pale, withered thing that seemed to belong to a man who had died years ago. It was a body part stripped of its purpose, yet it remained, attached to the limb of the sage who stood before the High Gate of Aethelgard. The gate was not made of wood or stone, but of woven light and the...

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