The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-20 21:34:14 -

The fire took the north wing of the Ashworth estate before the sun had fully cleared the ridge. It was a slow, hungry thing, not the explosive crackle of a dry brush fire, but the deep, sucking roar of timber that had been seasoned for a century. Arthur stood on the gravel drive, his arms crossed over his chest, watching the orange glow pulse against the gray morning sky. He was a man who dealt...

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