The Faded River
The rain fell on the city of Aethelgard not as water, but as a fine, grey dust that settled in the crevices of the stone and the hollows of the eyes. It was a morning of departure, though no one seemed to know what was leaving. Margaret stood at the window of her room in the High House, watching the cobblestones below dissolve into a slurry of mud and shadow. She was twenty-three, an age when a...
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