The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-22 20:26:35 -

The dream is always the same: a wall of grey limestone, cracked down the center, and in the fissure, your own face, distorted and weeping black sludge. You wake with the taste of wet chalk in your mouth, the cold air of the chapel biting at your skin. It is November, and the winter solstice is twenty days away. You are Elias Thorne, a mason of forty years, and you have one goal: to restore the...

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