The Wistful Ashes

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2026-08-21 12:08:47 -

The Wistful Ashes

The ash was not white. It was the color of a bruise that has forgotten how to hurt, a dull, swollen violet-grey that clung to the wool of my coat like a secret. I held it in my cupped palms, the heat radiating against my skin in a familiar, phantom rhythm, and watched the flakes dissolve into the thin, freezing air of the courtyard. We were in the Hall of Whispers, that place where the walls...

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