The Wistful Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 09:53:06 -

You wake with the taste of iron on your tongue. The air is thick, heavy with the scent of wet stone and old wax. It is the Hall of Echoes. You know this place the way a soldier knows the grain of wood in his rifle stock. It is cold. It is alive. You look down at your hands. They are yours. They are thick-knuckled, scarred at the knuckles from the last skirmish at the river bend. But they are...

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