The Wistful Ashes
The road is a ribbon of grey dust that stretches out before you, unbroken and indifferent. You are walking. Your legs are leaden, yet you move with a strange, buoyant lightness, as if the air itself has decided to hold you up. It is the era of the Great Silence, that time when the cities were swallowed by the fog and the people learned to speak only in whispers, lest the wind carry their...
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