The Wistful Show
The rain in the Hollow did not fall; it seeped, a grey, persistent weeping from the sky that turned the cobblestones into mirrors of black glass. Elias Thorne walked with the heavy, rhythmic gait of a man who has carried his own weight for too long, his shoulders hunched against the chill that seemed to emanate from the stones themselves rather than the air. He was a man of the outer world, or...
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