The Wistful Skyline
The arrow had taken your left hand at the wrist, and the blood was no longer spurting but weeping, a thick, hot river pooling in the mud against the wet stone of the keep’s outer wall. You are Captain Elias Thorne, thirty years old, and you are dying, though you have not yet admitted it to yourself. The Siege of Aethelgard has entered its second year, a siege not of armies but of minds, and you...
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