The Faded Apartment
The fog in Valoria was not merely weather; it was a bureaucratic instrument, a grey, damp blanket that smothered the spires of the High Court and turned the cobblestones into slick, treacherous mirrors of the sky. I stood at the iron gates, my hands trembling not from the cold, but from the weight of the glass vial tucked into my coat pocket, its faint, amber luminescence pulsing against my...
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