The Faded Chronicle
The fire does not consume the world, but it unmakes it, stripping the village of its familiar geometry until only the ash and the heat remain. You stand in the center of the ruin, the soot settling on your shoulders like a heavy, grey shroud, and you hold the Chronicle in your hands. It is not merely a book; it is the spine of your trade, the ledger of souls, the physical proof that you, Elias...
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