The Faded Chronicle
The fire did not begin with a spark, but with a silence so absolute it felt like a weight pressing against your eardrums, a silence that swallowed the sound of the wind in the highland pines and the distant, mournful cry of the peat-smoke drifting from the crofts on the hillside. You remember the exact moment the world shifted, not because of the heat that would later blister your skin, but...
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