The Faded Chronicle
You are walking down the long, cobbled lane toward the estate of Lord Ashworth, and the air is thick with the scent of wet stone and the metallic tang of impending rain, a heavy, suffocating atmosphere that presses against your skin like a damp woolen shawl you cannot remove, and you are carrying the broken pieces of the great clock in a leather satchel that chafes against your shoulders, the...
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