The Distant Promise
The rain did not fall so much as it hung, a grey, suffocating shroud over the cobblestones of Blackwood, a city that had not seen the sun in three years, where the fog rolled off the river in thick, oily banks that smelled of rot and old copper and the faint, sweet decay of lilies left too long in a vase, and Elara Vance walked through it with her head bowed, her feet numb inside boots that had...
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