The Wistful Asylum

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2026-08-20 18:20:55 -

The castle stood on a ridge of black stone, separated from the valley below by a mist that tasted of iron and old blood. Captain Elias Thorne adjusted the grip on his sword. The leather was slick with sweat. His heart beat against his ribs like a trapped bird. He was alone. The rest of the garrison had fled at dawn. They called it a retreat. Elias called it cowardice. He had sworn an oath to...

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