The Distant Metropolis
The rain on the thatch had a sound like static electricity, a low, continuous hum that vibrated in your teeth and settled into the marrow of your bones. You sat by the fire in the keep, the heat biting at your shins, while the darkness pressed against the narrow slits of the arrow loop, seeking entry with a patience that felt almost physical. You were not supposed to be here. The order from the...
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