The Wistful Silence

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2026-08-21 23:56:23 -

The mist in Oakhaven did not rise so much as it accumulated, a thick, grey wool that strangled the valley floor and pressed against the windows of Elias Thorne’s apothecary with a persistent, damp weight. Elias stood before the wooden counter, his hands trembling slightly as he ground dried yarrow into a fine powder, the rhythmic scrape of the mortar the only sound in the shop save for the...

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