The Faded Root
The feast in Oakhaven was a riot of noise and stale wine, the air thick with the smell of roasted pork and damp wool. Elias sat at the edge of the long table, twelve years old and restless, his eyes fixed on the flickering tallow candles that seemed to lean toward him. He wanted the Faded Root. He needed it to stop his mother’s cough, a dry, rattling sound that shook her thin frame every time...
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