The Wistful Ashes
The Spire did not creak, or groan, or settle into the earth with the weight of its own stone; it hummed, a low, resonant vibration that I felt in my teeth before I heard it in my ears. I sat in the command chair, the leather cracked and peeling under my weight, staring at the petition form where my daughter’s name, Mara, was written in ink that seemed to bleed slightly into the fibers of the...
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