The Wistful Ashes

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2026-08-19 00:19:41 -

The Wistful Ashes

The air in the Atrium of Silence tasted of ozone and stale copper. It was a flavor Elara had known since childhood, a taste that sat heavy on the tongue, masking the underlying sweetness of the soil that had long since died. She stood before the Conclave, her posture rigid, her hands clasped behind her back. The floor was polished obsidian, reflecting the pale, sickly glow of the bioluminescent...

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