The Distant Whispers

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2026-08-19 09:03:42 -

The fire took the roof before the sun rose. It ate the timber with a hungry hiss. Smoke curled upward, black and thick, choking the air of the valley. It smelled of pine and char. It smelled of ruin. Elias stood in the yard. He held his chisel. It was warm in his hand. He had been working since dawn. He was carving a lark. It was for the Hall. The Hall of the Guild. The place where the Master...

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