The Wistful Crossroads
The fog did not roll in; it arrived like a verdict, thick and gray, swallowing the spires of the old observatory before I could even finish my sentence. I was not here to observe the stars. I was here to contain the anomaly. The Bureau of Metaphysical Containment had sent me, a junior investigator with a soul too heavy for the badge, to the ruins of Aethelgard, a place that existed in the fold...
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