The Wistful Letter

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2026-08-21 17:42:58 -

The iron gate shudders. Dust shakes from the rafters, settling on the velvet seats of the High Court. You stand in the center of the flagstones, your armor dented, your breath coming in ragged sobs. The smell of blood is thick, metallic, choking. It coats the back of your throat. You cannot taste anything else. Around you, the judges sit in their black robes. Their faces are masks. You do not...

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