The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-22 22:22:25 -

The Wistful Petal

"Are you sure the ink is dry, Aldous?" I looked up from the parchment, the smell of iron gall sharp in my nostrils, and saw the High Chancellor standing over me, his shadow falling long and distorted across the desk. The light in the chamber was failing, the amber glow of the tallow candles catching the dust motes that swirled in the stagnant air. I had been working for fourteen hours, my eyes...

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