The Faded Attic
The road to the city of Oakhaven was not a road at all, but a scar in the earth, choked by weeds and the bones of old carts. You walked it with your boots soaked through, the mud clinging to your shins like a second skin, a heavy, cold thing that weighed you down toward the ground. Your hand rested on the hilt of your sword, not because you feared an ambush, but because the weight of the steel...
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