The Wistful Voyage
The hall of the Obsidian Citadel was not built of stone, but of solidified twilight, a vast and breathing cavern where the air tasted of copper and old rain, and we sat amidst a throng of figures whose faces were smooth and featureless masks of polished bone, watching the Great Conclave descend from the upper galleries, a cascade of robes so heavy with dust and centuries that they trailed like...
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