The Wistful Cipher
The road to the coast was not a road at all, but a scar in the earth, a ribbon of mud and shattered stone that wound through the fog like a vein. Elara walked it, her boots sinking into the sludge with a wet, sucking sound that echoed in her chest. She was an exile, though she had not crossed any border in the true sense. She had only crossed the threshold of her father’s house, the moment the...
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