The Wistful Letter
The scream that tore through the silence of the high tower was not one of pain, but of a shattering, a glass-like fracture that echoed off the damp stone walls, and as the dust settled in the shafts of pale, moonlight filtering through the narrow arrow slits, Elara stood amidst the ruins of her own reflection, her hands trembling not with fear but with the terrifying, electric weight of a...
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