The Wistful Letter

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2026-08-20 19:15:50 -

The ink was still wet when the taste of iron filled my mouth. I had not bitten my tongue, nor had I consumed any metal. It was a sensation that began in the teeth and spread to the throat, a cold, metallic bloom that tasted of old coins and dried blood. I sat at my desk in the high tower of the Blackwood Academy, the wind whistling through the cracks in the ancient stone, and I wrote. I wrote...

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