The Distant Legend
The rain in the city of Oakhaven did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a thick, grey curtain that smelled of wet ash and the metallic tang of the iron foundries, and I stood in the middle of the cobblestone street, my boots sinking into the slurry of mud and broken glass, watching the great glass tower of the Aethelgard Bank shatter into a million glittering shards that caught the weak...
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