The Faded Bouquet
You are standing in the shadow of the spire, where the air tastes of wet stone and old iron. The city below is a tangle of grey rooftops, stitched together by cobblestones slick with rain. It is not the city you left. It is not the city you imagined. It is a living thing, breathing in the dark, its lungs filled with fog and whispered secrets. You hold the bundle in your hands. It is heavy. It...
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