The Wistful Voyage

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2026-08-24 21:30:23 -

The letter lay on the oak counter, its seal broken, the ink still wet and smelling of iron and vinegar, as if the words had been written in blood rather than gall. I picked it up, my fingers trembling not from the cold that seeped through the floorboards of the apothecary, but from the sudden, violent realization that the world I had known for forty years had ended with a single stroke of the...

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