The Distant Affair

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2026-08-20 22:17:20 -

The wind did not howl here; it whispered, a low, sibilant hiss that seemed to scrape against the very marrow of my bones, carrying with it the scent of wet stone and the sweet, cloying rot of lilies that bloomed in the crevices of the obsidian walls, a beauty so terrible and so fragile that it made my eyes water, a weeping that was not of sorrow but of a profound and aching recognition of my...

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