The Distant Promise
The carriage shudders to a halt. You step out onto the mossy earth. The air is thick. It smells of rot and iron. This is the Hollow. It is not a place on any map. It is a space of memory. You are Eleanor. You are old. Your knees ache. Your breath is shallow. You carry a satchel. Inside the satchel is the cure. It is a small, glass vial. The liquid inside glows with a faint, sickly green. It is...
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