His name is Umin and he is simply a thief.
A simple thief. A bleeder of purses and accounts.
His fortunes a little less than likeable of late.
Something small and shapeless twists out of the dark, falling near to hand with a sick softness.
A blot of blackness against the black.
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A dark, fantastical tale that is intended to unfold a paragraph, or thereabouts, at a time.
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13 Oct 2026
3 minute read
12 hours ago
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