The Distant Journey
The rain in the valley did not fall so much as it hung, a grey curtain that blurred the edge of the world. You walked through it, your boots heavy with the red clay of the lowlands, carrying a satchel that felt lighter than it should have. Inside was not gold, nor parchment, but a single, smooth stone, warm to the touch despite the chill in the air. You had found it at the bottom of the well in...
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