The Wistful Asylum
The mortar crumbles under your chisel with a sound like dry bone snapping, a rhythm that has begun to sync with the thudding in your chest. You are Elias Thorne, warden of the Kael Fortress, and your hands are slick with sweat despite the biting December wind that whips off the moat. The High Council expects the perimeter wall to be impregnable by the solstice, a testament to your loyalty and...
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