The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-23 07:35:06 -

The frost had not yet taken hold of the cobblestones, but the air in the village of Oakhaven tasted of iron and old rot, a metallic tang that coated the back of Margaret’s throat as she stood at the threshold of her crumbling ancestral home. She clutched a chipped clay bowl to her chest, the ceramic cold and slick against her woolen shawl, holding the last of the village’s sacred grain, a pale,...

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