The Faded Frontier
The road to the Blackwood Spire was not a road in the way that men usually understood it, but rather a wound in the earth that had been stitched shut by centuries of moss and silence, and I walked upon it with the heavy, deliberate steps of a man who knows that his body is already a relic, a thing that belongs to the past even as it drags itself into the future, carrying the weight of a duty...
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