The Wistful Campus
You have never felt the cold so keenly until the sky above the Academy of St. Jude’s fractured like a pane of stained glass, shattering not into shards of light but into a torrent of ash and silence that buried the spires of the old world and left you standing in a void that smelled of ozone and burnt lavender, where the air itself seemed to hold its breath in anticipation of your next move,...
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