The Wistful Show
The Citadel of Oakhaven did not stand so much as it rotted, a towering skeleton of grey stone piercing the perpetual fog that strangled the lower city. You stood in the shadow of its gate, your warden’s uniform stiff with damp, the weight of your authority feeling suddenly hollow in the chest. Elias Thorne, thirty-two, had served the Guild of Wardens for a decade, enforcing the rigid protocols...
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