The Distant Cartograph
The sky over the valley of Aethelgard did not fall; it simply ceased to hold its shape, unraveling into a fraying tapestry of indigo and bruised purple that hung heavy and silent above the ancient stones of the university, a catastrophe of color that swallowed the sun before the bells could even begin their mournful toll. It was a disaster not of fire or flood, but of perception, a sudden and...
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