The Faded River
The water in the basin was not merely water; it was a suspension of memory, thick and cold, swirling with the faint, iridescent sheen of something that had not yet died but had ceased to live. Elara stood before it in the center of the high vaulted room, her hands submerged to the wrist, her fingers twitching with the residual tremors of a spell that had cost her more than she could afford to...
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