The Faded Attic
The iron gates of Aethelgard did not rust, for they were forged from star-metal and quenched in the tears of dying gods, and they stood as eternal witnesses to the slow, grinding erosion of the world beyond their bars, a world that had long since forgotten the name of the man who had once commanded the legions of the North. Elowen stood before the gate, her hands clasped so tightly around the...
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