The Wistful Skyline
The stone walls of the sanctuary did not breathe, yet Thomas felt the air within them grow heavy, thick with the scent of damp moss and the ancient, metallic tang of blood that seemed to seep from the very mortar, a physical weight that pressed against his eardrums and settled deep in the hollows of his chest where his heart labored against the constraints of his ribs, forcing him to slow his...
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