The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-20 23:33:07 -

"You are dead, Thomas," the voice said. It did not come from outside. It rose from the marrow of his bones, a vibration that shook the dust from his shoulders. He stood in a field of grey ash that stretched to a horizon of swirling violet mist. There was no sun, only a diffuse, sickly light that seemed to emanate from the air itself. Thomas did not blink. He was a soldier, or he had been,...

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