The Wistful Skyline
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a suspended gray curtain that blurred the edges of the cobblestone streets and the stone faces of the old city. It was a heavy, wet silence, the kind that pressed against the eardrums and made the heart beat louder in the chest. Elias stood on the balcony of the watchtower, his fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt of his sword, the metal...
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