The Wistful Saga
The rain in the valley did not fall so much as it suspended itself, a fine gray mist that clung to the wool of Elias’s coat and seeped into the marrow of his bones. He walked the ridge path that bisected the old orchard, his boots sinking into the wet earth, each step a small, deliberate act of defiance against the heavy, silent fog that swallowed the horizon. Elias was a man who had spent...
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