The Wistful Mountain

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2026-08-22 00:42:29 -

The rain on the valley floor does not fall so much as it hangs, a grey curtain that turns the air into something thick and cold against your skin. You stand before the stone chapel of St. Jude, the wet flagstones slick beneath your boots, and you watch the water bead and run down the ancient glass. It is October, 1348, and the smell of rotting leaves and wet wool is the only thing that feels...

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