The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-23 09:52:14 -

The stylus was cold in my hand, a sliver of bone polished smooth by years of use, and the cold bit into my palm until I could no longer feel the pulse of my own life. I stood before the High King, the weight of the court’s debt pressing against my spine like a physical force, and I looked into the obsidian slab known as the Mirror of Truth. It did not show my face. It showed a rotting void, a...

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