The Wistful Incense
The ink in my logbook is still wet when I note the time, though the hour has long since passed the point of relevance. I am Elias Thorne, Captain of the Royal Guard, and I am writing this because the alternative is to stand at the gate and watch the Hollow again. It stands there, a figure in grey robes that seem woven from the fog itself, its face a void where features should be. It does not...
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