The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-21 22:48:04 -

The Faded Bouquet

The rain fell in sheets of grey. It drummed against the stone of the keep, a relentless, hollow rhythm. I stood in the center of the great hall. My boots were wet. The mud from the yard was cold against my skin. I looked down at the object in my hands. It was a letter. No, not a letter. A mark. A symbol scratched into a piece of parchment. It was a circle. Inside the circle, a line. It meant...

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