The Distant Promise
The road into the Vale of St. Jude was not paved with stone, but with a thick, viscous sludge of grey mud that seemed to breathe under the weight of their boots, a substance that sucked at the heels with a wet, sucking sound that echoed in the hollows of their chests like a dying lung. Elara moved through this mire with the slow, deliberate grace of a woman who had long since ceased to trust...
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