The Faded Attic
The heat in the undercroft was not merely temperature; it was a living weight, pressing against Elias Thorne’s chest as he gathered the obsidian shard in his sweating palm. It was the year 1348, and the city of Ashwick held its breath under a sky the color of bruised iron, while inside the cathedral’s foundations, the furnace roared with a hunger that mirrored the man tending it. Elias was...
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