The Wistful Saga
The rain in the city of Oakhaven did not fall so much as it hovered, a suspended grey curtain that turned the cobblestones into dark mirrors and the air into a thick, breathing thing that pressed against the skin of anyone who dared to walk the streets after the bell had tolled for the third hour of the night. Elias Thorne moved through this atmosphere with the slow, deliberate grace of a man...
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