The Wistful Campus

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2026-08-24 21:14:11 -

The iron key was cold, a slab of metal that seemed to leech the warmth from my palm even through my leather gloves. I held it up to the window, where the afternoon light was thinning to a bruised purple, and watched the teeth of the lock catch the dying sun. It was a simple thing, a tool of the trade, yet it felt heavier than the sword I had carried in the militia three years prior. My name is...

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