The Faded Quadrant
The morning mist lay heavy over the cobblestones of Oakhaven, a thick, gray blanket that smelled of wet stone and old woodsmoke. Elian walked with his head down, his boots slipping on the slick pavement, the weight of the iron chain at his ankle pulling him toward the city gates. He was sixteen, though he looked older, his face a map of premature lines etched by worry and sleepless nights....
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