The Faded Ruin
The iron key hung heavy in Kaelen’s palm, its teeth worn smooth by decades of turning. He stood in the trench, the mud sucking at his boots, while the fog rolled in from the east, thick as wool. He wanted to hold the line until dawn. He wanted to save Elara. The System had declared the fog a purification, a cleansing of the impure, and ordered the gates sealed. Kaelen knew the uncanny rule. The...
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