The Wistful Crossroads

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2026-08-20 05:45:58 -

The iron gate of the city of Aethelgard does not rust, for the air here is too thick with the scent of ozone and crushed lilies to allow for decay, and you stand before it with the weight of a century pressing against the back of your neck, the cold metal of the key in your hand feeling less like a tool and more like a bone, a fragment of your own skeleton that has been extracted and forced...

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