The Wistful Crossroads

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2026-08-20 08:43:32 -

The rain does not fall here; it condenses from the thick, amber-hued air, dripping in slow, viscous beads from the eaves of the Citadel, a structure of black iron and pale stone that rises like a scar against the bruised sky. You stand in the courtyard, the wet cobblestones slick beneath your boots, the weight of your armor humming against your skin with a frequency that matches the ache in...

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