The Wistful Skyline
The storm did not break the sky; it shattered the world. A jagged tear of violet lightning split the heavens above the moor, and in that instant, the ancient pines at the edge of the glen caught fire. Not with flame, but with a sudden, violent silence. The wind died. The rain stopped falling, suspended in the air like a curtain of glass beads. And then, the trees fell. They did not crash; they...
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