The Faded Chronicle

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2026-08-19 08:43:43 -

The banquet hall of the Aetherium did not smell of food, but of ozone and crushed lilies, a scent that hung thick in the air like a physical weight against the skin. Sir Kaelen stood at the edge of the long table, his armor polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the flickering candlelight of a thousand suspended flames. He was a man carved from stone and silence, his face a mask of stoic duty,...

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