The Pale Verdict
The rain did not fall so much as it descended, a heavy, grey curtain that erased the line between the cobblestones and the sky. In the city of Aethelgard, where the air tasted of iron and old paper, the war had not ended with a treaty. It had ended with a silence so profound it pressed against the eardrums like deep water. Elara stood at the center of the Grand Archive. She was not a soldier....
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