The Distant Promise
The rain that fell upon the cobbled streets of Ashenmoor did not wash the city clean but rather pressed the grime of centuries into the very bones of the stone, a relentless, heavy drumming that seemed to echo the pounding of your own heart as you stood before the iron-wrought gate of the Magistrate’s Hall, the cold seeping through the thick wool of your cloak to settle against your skin like a...
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