The Wistful Ashes
The mist clings to the valley floor like a shroud that has been worn for too long, softening the sharp edges of the world until the distinction between the earth and the sky dissolves into a single, gray exhale. You walk, your boots sinking into the mud of the path that leads up to the estate, the weight of your armor a familiar, comforting anchor against the drift of your own fading identity....
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