The Wistful Throne
The road to the Valley of Echoes was not a road at all, but a wound in the earth, a jagged scar of grey stone and withered heather that cut through the highlands of the north. I walked it with my boots soaking in the mud, my satchel heavy with books that felt more like stones against my hip. I was Dr. Elias Thorne, a man who had spent his life categorizing the uncategorizable, trying to pin the...
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