The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-24 09:31:26 -

The Wistful Petal

The glass did not break. It bled. "Strike it, Silas. Strike it now, before the tide turns and the stone takes your tongue." Thomas Bradshaw’s voice was thin, scraped raw by the wind that howled through the broken shutters of the warden’s tower. I stood before the mirror, my hand wrapped around the pommel of my sword, the leather worn smooth by twenty years of service on the border. The air in...

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