The Distant Ghost
The rain fell not in drops but in a continuous, gray veil that erased the horizon and turned the cobblestones of the outpost into a slick, reflective mirror of the sky. Seraphina stood in the doorway of the command hall, her hand resting on the hilt of a sword that had not tasted blood in a decade, feeling the cold dampness seep through the wool of her cloak. Inside, the air was thick with the...
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