The Wistful Ashes

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2026-08-22 13:40:10 -

The Wistful Ashes

The ink was dry, but the paper was still warm, holding the heat of the pen that had just scratched the final line. I held the ledger in my hands, the weight of it a dull ache in my wrists, a physical reminder of the debt I carried. Outside the high, narrow windows of the Obsidian Court, the snow fell in thick, suffocating sheets, burying the city in a silence that felt less like peace and more...

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