The Wistful Saga
The iron gate of the citadel groans against its hinges, a low, metallic moan that vibrates through the soles of your boots as you push it open. The sound is distinct, heavy, and immediate, a physical warning before the visual data confirms the breach. You are standing in the courtyard of the keep, the stone underfoot cold and damp, slick with the persistent drizzle that has plagued this valley...
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