The Wistful Ashes
The door locked. I heard the click, a small, definitive sound in the vast silence of the cellar. It was not a sound of imprisonment, but of finality. I stood in the center of the room, surrounded by the damp chill of the earth, and I knew that I had finally chosen my cage. Or perhaps I had finally chosen the bird. My name is Elara. I am the last of the Holloway line, a lineage that has kept the...
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