The Wistful Ashes
The road into the High Court of Oremund was not a path but a scar, a jagged line of crushed slate and iron that cut through the ancient, whispering pines of the Northern Reach. Elias Thorne walked it with the heavy, rhythmic cadence of a man who had forgotten how to walk softly, his boots striking the stone with a dull, final thud that echoed in the hollows of the surrounding forest. He was not...
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