The Distant Whispers

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2026-08-20 21:53:04 -

You wake in a dream where the air tastes of copper and old dust. It is the year of the Great Silence, or so the histories claim, though history is a liar that wears the face of truth. You are not yourself. You are Margaret, and you are tired. A bone-deep fatigue that has settled into your marrow like frost. You stand in the Hall of Records, a vast, cold chamber beneath the estate. The shelves...

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