The Wistful Petal
Chapter One The light in the High Court of the Mirror Realm is not something that falls; it is something that is owed, a debt of photons paid out in strict, unyielding increments that dictate the price of every hour spent in the service of the state. I am Antonio Cortes, a bonded scribe of thirty-two years, and I am sitting behind my stall in the shadow of the great terraced hills, watching the...
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