The Wistful Ashes
The Spire breathes. You feel it in the soles of your boots, a rhythmic expansion and contraction that turns the obsidian floor into a lung, a living membrane that sucks the air from your lungs with every downward step. You are Elias Thorne, Warden of the Obsidian Spire, and for twenty-two years you have worn the weight of this structure like a second skin. Your duty is singular, cold, and...
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