The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-23 12:46:21 -

Silas. The name was not a call but a summons, ripped from the air by the High Magistrate’s herald, whose voice carried the dry, brittle weight of parchment being torn. It echoed off the wet cobblestones of the lower district, bouncing between the timber-framed houses until it settled in the hollow of Silas’s chest, a stone dropped into a well. He stood at the edge of the market square, his hand...

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