The Wistful Crossroads

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2026-08-21 11:15:28 -

The rain in Oakhaven did not fall so much as it seeped, a cold, persistent mist that clung to the cobblestones and the heavy wool of Edward Ashworth’s cloak. He stood at the threshold of the magistrate’s office, the door still open behind him, letting the dampness rush in to meet the warmth of the hearth. He had come to say goodbye, or perhaps to say nothing at all, for the words had lost their...

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