The Distant Legend
The fog in Ashcroft did not clear; it merely thinned, revealing the soot-stained bricks of the Vane Ironworks and the grey, breathing mass of the city beyond. You stood before the heavy oak doors of Silas Vane’s office, your coat damp with the industrial mist, your pockets empty of anything but a few crumpled drafts and a hunger that had become a physical ache in your ribs. You were Elias...
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