The Wistful Saga

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2026-08-22 12:37:49 -

The Wistful Saga

The ink was still wet on the deed of sale when I signed my name, the pen scratching against the heavy paper like a dry twig snapping. Outside, the November wind tore at the bare branches of the old oak, a sound that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards of the parlor. I looked at Elara, who sat by the fire with a shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders, her face pale but composed. "We...

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