The Wistful Saga
The rain fell with a persistent, grey lethargy over the cobblestones of the old city, a downpour that seemed less like weather and more like a slow, heavy exhalation from the earth itself, soaking into the worn leather of Captain Elias Thorne’s boots as he walked the long, winding road toward the palace gates, his back aching with the specific, hollow pain that comes not from age but from the...
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