The Wistful Silence

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2026-08-23 05:25:01 -

The summons lay on the oak desk, the parchment brittle and yellowed, smelling faintly of the iron-rich ink that had stained my fingers for twenty years. I held it up to the window, the morning light catching the Magistrate’s seal, a heavy red wax that looked less like a symbol of authority and more like a dried drop of blood. My hand trembled, the familiar palsy that the town physician had...

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