The Wistful Saga
The gatekeeper’s shout cracked across the mud like a whip. "Thorne! You are barred from the inner court." Sir Aldric stopped. His boots sank into the slurry. The autumn light was thin, a pale wash over the royal estate, highlighting the grey line that ran from the palace walls to the city gate. The Grey Path. It was not a metaphor. It was ash, dry and fine, shifting in the wind but never...
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