The Wistful Asylum
The road to the Abbey was not paved, but it was hard, beaten by the hooves of thousands of mules over centuries until the earth had turned to a stone-like grit. Silas walked it in the grey light of dawn, his boots heavy with the mud of the lowlands, his back aching with the weight of a pack that held nothing but his own survival. He was a soldier, or had been, before the war that ate the...
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