The Wistful Crossroads

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2026-08-21 15:47:39 -

The road does not end. It thickens. You walk. The mud sucks at your boots. It is a cold, wet dark. Not night. Not day. A grey, suspended nothing. You are walking toward the Gate. You have been walking for a hundred years. Or perhaps a second. Time is a broken clock here. It ticks backward. It stutters. It stops. You carry the weight. It is not in your hands. It is in your marrow. The sin is a...

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