The Faded Attic
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, gray curtain that turned the cobblestones of the high street into mirrors reflecting the weeping sky. Elara walked with her head down, her cloak heavy with water, the hem dragging through the mud that clung to her boots like the memory of a wound. She was not of this town, nor of the village before it, nor of the valley that cradled them...
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