The Wistful Skyline

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2026-08-20 17:52:06 -

Maren sat on the cold stone floor of the cell, her hands resting in her lap, fingers intertwined so tightly the knuckles had turned the color of old bone. The air here was thick, not with damp, as one might expect in a dungeon, but with a heavy, sweet rot, like flowers left too long in a vase without water. She did not look up. She knew the footsteps coming down the corridor. They were...

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