The Wistful Letter

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2026-08-23 07:57:43 -

The glass seal sat in Elias’s palm, cold and fractured, a shard of obsidian that seemed to drink the dim light of the scribe’s room. He was thirty years old, though the debt owed to Lord Vane had aged him into something brittle and hollow. Outside, the manor groaned under a wind that did not blow from any direction, a timeless howl that signaled the arrival of the midwinter feast. Elias wanted...

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