The Wistful Campus
"You see it, don't you?" The voice was thin, stretched tight over a frame that had not eaten properly in weeks. Elias stood at the edge of the frozen moor, his breath pluming in the gray air. He did not look at the man. He looked at the ice. "I see nothing, Master," Elias said. "Just water. Just stone." "Wrong." The man, Silas, stepped closer. His boots crunched on the frost. "It is alive. It...
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