The Distant Promise
The fog in the Valley of Ash does not drift; it crawls, a thick, oily substance that clings to the stone walls of the corridor and seeps into the gaps of your armor, cold as a grave. You are Elias, a Royal Sentinel of the Third Watch, and in your gloved hand you clutch the Shattered Mirror, a relic of obsidian glass no larger than a man’s palm, which hums with a frequency that vibrates in your...
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