The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-23 07:43:43 -

The Wistful Petal

The ink in Margaret Holloway’s quill had not yet dried on the parchment of her second petition when the shadow fell across her desk, a cold and distinct absence of light that smelled of wet limestone and old iron. She did not look up, for in the Bureau of Civic Rectitude, shadows were not to be acknowledged, and the High Archon, a man whose face was a topography of bureaucratic disdain, had...

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