The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-24 09:50:41 -

The rain in Aethelgard did not fall so much as it hung, a grey, suspended mist that clung to the cobblestones and the faces of the courtiers, blurring the line between the living and the damp, rotting earth. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the square, his back straight despite the ache in his joints, his hands clasped behind him where they trembled with a violence he could not quite...

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