The Wistful Petal
The mud of the Valley of Ash was not merely wet; it was a living, sucking mouth that pulled at the boots of the men of the Iron Guard with a tenacity that defied logic, a viscous darkness that seemed to remember every footstep that had ever been taken upon its surface, holding them in a grip that was both physical and spiritual. Sir Kaelen stood at the center of this mire, his armor dented and...
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