The Distant Whispers
The wind that swept across the salt-scoured cliffs of Alderwick did not howl so much as it screamed, a low, tearing sound that seemed to rip the very fabric of the sky, and it was into this howling void that Sir Elias Thorne walked, his boots sinking into the mud that clung to the earth like the memory of a wound that refused to close, carrying upon his back the weight of a sword that had not...
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