The Pale Circus
The road into the city of Aethelgard was not paved with stone, but with the compressed silence of centuries, a path that seemed less like a route and more like a wound in the earth that had finally stopped bleeding. You walked it with the heavy, rhythmic tread of a man who has forgotten how to rest, your boots striking the ground with a dull thud that was your own heartbeat, amplified and...
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