The Wistful Skyline
The carriage wheels ground against the cobblestones of the village square, a sound like teeth chewing on gravel, and Elias Thorne stepped down with the stiffness of a man whose joints had calcified with years of silence. He was leaving. This was not a departure in the sense of a traveler seeking new horizons, but a severing, a clean cut made to stop the bleeding. The house stood at the end of...
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