The Wistful Letter

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2026-08-22 13:44:04 -

The parchment in my hands is not merely paper; it is a fractured mirror, a boundary map drawn in lines that shift when I blink, and the fog pressing against the windowpane of my cell grows thicker with every hour that passes. I am Thomas Bradshaw, twelve years old, a scribe’s apprentice in the village of Oakhaven, and I am writing this from the crypt because the elders, men who should be...

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