The Distant Whispers
The rain in the city of Oakhaven did not fall so much as it hovered, a fine, persistent mist that turned the cobblestones into slick mirrors reflecting the gaslight and the shadows. Elara pressed her back against the cold stone of the apothecary’s doorframe, watching the street empty as the curfew bells tolled their mournful rhythm. She was thirty-two, an age that should have brought stability,...
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