The Wistful Ashes
The tower is on fire. You are climbing the stairs, the iron beneath your boots slick with sweat and soot, the heat a physical weight against your skin. Your brother’s scream still echoes in your ears, a jagged shard of sound that will not stop vibrating. You grip the railing. It is hot. You do not let go. “Stop!” The voice comes from below. It is the voice of Lord Ashworth. It is smooth. It is...
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