The Wistful Show
The dream came to Elias Thorne with the cold precision of a blade. He stood in the snow, the white expanse stretching endlessly before him, when the stag appeared. It was not a beast of flesh, but a tear in the air, bleeding light into the dark. The blood did not pool; it evaporated into the frost, leaving a scent of iron and old stone. Elias woke in his cell at the Iron Gate, the taste of...
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