The Wistful Saga

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2026-08-22 11:40:29 -

The Wistful Saga

The smell of rosemary and rot hung thick in the air of the apothecary shop on High Street. Thomas Bradshaw stood before the counter, his hands hovering over a mortar filled with crushed willow bark, waiting for his master to speak. Silas was dying. The wasting plague had taken his color, then his voice, and now it was eating the very air from his lungs. Thomas had watched the old man’s breath...

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