The Wistful Skyline

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2026-08-19 15:33:16 -

The air in the Hall of Echoes did not smell of incense or old tapestries, but of wet iron and crushed violets, a scent that seemed to seep through the very stones of the floor where Elias knelt, his hands trembling not from the cold that crept up from the marble tiles, but from the sheer, crushing weight of the expectation placed upon his shoulders. He was twelve years old, a boy who had spent...

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