The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-21 11:54:57 -

The blood was not mine, or at least not the blood that defined me in the cold, echoing halls of the Ministry of Internal Order, yet it ran hot and thick down the forearms of the man I held pinned against the damp brickwork of the alleyway behind the foundry, his eyes wide with a terror that mirrored my own forgotten childhood. We were grappling in the dark, our bodies a tangle of bruised muscle...

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