The Faded River
The rain fell on the cobblestones of Aethelgard. It fell hard. It fell cold. It washed the mud from the boots of the guards. It soaked the wool of the cloaks. It seeped into the bones of the city. Elara stood at the gate. She held her sister’s hand. The grip was tight. The fingers were white. The knuckles were raw. Go, said the Captain. He stood behind her. He was tall. He was old. His armor...
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