The Faded Ruin
The bell tolled at dawn. It did not ring. It tolled. A low, iron groan that shook the dust from the rafters of the Grand Hall. Captain Elias Thorne stood at the head of the table, his hands flat on the cold wood. He watched the vapor rise from the porridge. It swirled in thick, white ribbons, smelling of burnt grain and something sharper, metallic. It tasted of ash. It tasted of the soil they...
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