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Chapter 1171: Story : The Widow’s Fog
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Chapter 1173: Story : Gravedigger’s Pact
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...
Not metaphorically. Not nostalgically. Literally.
The great iron hourglass that sat in the corner—its sands a sickly gray, neither liquid nor dust—hung frozen mid-drip. The children never touched it. They were told not to by the matron. But whispers rose from it in the quiet hours, curling into ears like lullabies of despair.
They said it spoke to you if you were alone long enough. Promised to show you what you missed. Or what you feared.
Clara Veil, no stranger ...
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