The Wistful Skyline
The collapse of the eastern wing did not announce itself with a roar but with a sigh, a long, shuddering exhalation of dust and ancient stone that seemed to emanate from the very bones of the fortress, shaking the floorboards beneath Commander Elias Thorne’s polished boots until his teeth chattered in a rhythm that matched the tremor of his hands, which he had clasped behind his back so tightly...
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