The Wistful Witness
The road out of the valley did not end, but it did thin. It became a suggestion of earth worn smooth by the hooves of horses that had long since returned to the grass, and the air grew thin and sharp, tasting of iron and old snow. Caelen walked ahead, his armor clinking with a rhythm that felt less like protection and more like a cage. He was a man of the King’s Guard, a title that had once...
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