The Wistful Saga
The rain did not fall so much as it hung, a gray curtain that blurred the edges of the world. Elias stood on the porch of the half-finished house, watching the mist swallow the fields. He was a man who measured things. He measured the depth of the silence, the width of the shadows, the distance between his own breath and the next. He had come to this place because the map said it existed, but...
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