The Wistful Show
The stone gate of the Citadel of Aethelgard did not open with a mechanism of gears and levers, but with a shudder of the earth itself, a deep, tectonic groan that rose from the bedrock and vibrated through the soles of Eamon’s boots, a sensation that was less a sound than a physical weight pressing against his chest, reminding him that he was not merely standing before a building but before a...
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