The Wistful Cipher

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2026-08-24 01:34:11 -

The ink was thick, clogging the nib, and I had to press harder to make the letters form, my hand trembling not from the cold but from the weight of the seal I had just set down on the desk. It was the fourteenth of January, 1893, and the lighthouse at Blackwood Point stood like a broken tooth against the grey sky, its stone walls exhaling a damp, rhythmic pulse that I could feel in my own...

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