The Wistful Voyage

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2026-08-24 13:38:46 -

The autumn of 1348 settled over Oakhaven like a shroud, heavy with the scent of wet earth and the faint, sweet rot of the plague. I am Thomas, twelve years old, and I write this by the guttering light of a tallow candle, my hand steady only because I have no choice but to be. My concrete want is simple, yet it feels as vast and impossible as the sky: I must survive the winter, and more...

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