The Distant Legend
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, gray curtain that turned the cobblestones of the Citadel into slick mirrors of the sky above. I stood at the window of my quarters, watching the water bead and run, my reflection ghosting over the glass. It was a thin, pale thing, a warrior without a war, a blade sheathed in a world that had forgotten how to fight. My name was Elias Thorne,...
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