The Distant Whispers

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2026-08-19 23:12:13 -

The rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a persistent, grey mist that clung to the cobblestones of the old abbey quarter, soaking into the porous stone and the woolen cloaks of the passersby. In the high, windowless cellar of the Guild Hall, where the air smelled of damp mortar and the stale sweat of labor, Elara kept to herself. She was a woman of few words and many scars, her hands...

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