The Wistful Grid

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2026-08-24 10:43:22 -

The Wistful Grid

1423, the 12th day of the Month of Frost. Mara, my heart is beating like a hammer against the inside of my ribs, and I am writing this by the light of a tallow candle that has burned down to a stub. The wind outside is not howling tonight; it is whispering, and it sounds exactly like the glass. I am sending this to you because I am afraid I will not remember how to speak by morning, or perhaps...

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