The Faded Road
The sky cracked open above the valley of Aethelgard, not with thunder, but with a sound like tearing silk, and the light that poured through was the color of bruised plums. You stood on the precipice of the cliff, your feet slipping on moss that had turned to glass, watching the world below dissolve into a mist of ash and memory. It was a Tuesday, or perhaps it was a Sunday, for time in...
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