The Wistful Saga
Could a man buy back his sister’s breath with his own years? Homer Hoyt stood in the Guild hall, the air thick with the damp smell of old paper and the salt wind pressing against the single window. He was forty, a piano tuner by trade, though lately his fingers had grown too stiff to feel the tension in the strings. Across the desk, Master Aldous, a man whose face was a map of fine, dry lines,...
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