The Wistful Ashes
The road to the Citadel was not paved with stone, but with the compressed, white bones of the forgotten. You walk upon them, feeling the crunch of history under your boots, the sound dry and final like the closing of a heavy book. The sky above is the color of bruised slate, heavy with a silence that has no source and no end. You are here because you were sent. You are here because you are the...
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