The Wistful Mountain

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2026-08-25 07:22:21 -

Chapter One Pyotr Sorokin scrubbed the grime from the stone lintel, the bristles of his brush snapping against the rock with a sound like dry twigs breaking. He worked the corner where the mortar had begun to crumble, his hands raw and red from the lye, the cold water of the bucket biting into his knuckles. The light in the Old Gate hall was thin, a grey sliver cutting through the high, barred...

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