The Distant Clue
The mist that settled over the citadel of Aethelgard was not merely water suspended in air, but a living, breathing entity that tasted of iron and ancient sorrow. I stood at the edge of the obsidian balcony, my fingers tracing the cold, smooth grain of the railing, feeling the vibration of the city below, a hum that seemed to originate not from the streets, but from the bones of the earth...
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