The Distant Legend
The sky above the Citadel of Oros did not break; it bled, a slow, viscous hemorrhage of crimson and bruised violet that drowned the stars in a soup of ash and iron, and as the first shard of the falling moon struck the ramparts, splintering into a shower of glass that cut the air like the whispers of the damned, Caelen Vance stood at the edge of the precipice, his boots sinking into the wet,...
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