The Wistful Saga
The old stone church sat on the hill like a broken tooth in the jaw of the city. It was not a ruin, exactly, but it was no longer used for prayer. The pews had been removed years ago, leaving the floor bare and dusty. The air inside smelled of wet wool and decay. Elias stood in the nave, his hands resting on the back of a wooden bench that remained. He was a man of middle years, though his face...
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