The Faded Quadrant
The road to the Hollow did not end so much as it dissolved into a thick, grey mist that smelled of wet stone and ancient, rotting wood, a scent that clung to the back of Elara’s throat like a forbidden word. She had been walking for three days, or perhaps three centuries, for time in the Hollow had long since shed its linear skin, curling into tight, inescapable knots that made the mind dizzy...
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