The Wistful Witness

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2026-08-23 12:32:20 -

The dream was not of battle, but of silence. I saw the Wistful Stag standing in the mist beyond the river, its antlers branching like the veins of a map I had never learned to read. It was whole, perfect, and utterly still, watching me with eyes that held no reflection of my own face, only the hollow space where my name used to be. I woke with the taste of iron on my tongue and the weight of...

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