The Faded Alibi
The rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, gray curtain that turned the cobblestones of the Old Quarter into a slick, mirroring void. It was a city of stone and shadow, where the air smelled of wet wool, woodsmoke, and the faint, metallic tang of alchemy that clung to the lower districts. Elara stood by the window of her workshop, her hands resting on the sill, watching the water...
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