The Faded Ruin
The leather-bound journal lay open on the desk, its pages yellowed and brittle, the ink of the last entry a faded brown that looked less like writing and more like a dried blood stain. Elara Vane, twelve years old and already carrying the weight of her father’s legacy like a stone in her chest, stared at the date: October 14th. The dream had returned, as it did every third night, a recurring...
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