The Faded Chronicle
The frost came not as a whisper but as a verdict. It settled over the city of Oakhaven in the third year of the King’s reign, a thick, white shroud that smothered the cobblestones and turned the breath of the pedestrians into fleeting ghosts. In the shadow of the Cathedral of Saint Jude, where the stone gargoyles seemed to lean closer in their eternal vigil, lived a man named Elias Thorne. He...
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