The Last Sentinel of the Dying Sun
The city of Aethelgard did not fall in a day. It eroded. It was a slow, agonizing decay of marble and spirit, a civilization that had forgotten how to dream and had instead learned only how to remember. The Great Library, once the beacon of the known world, was now a mausoleum of rotting parchment, and the Golden Spire, which had once touched the heavens, was choked by the grey vines of a dying...
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