The Wistful Saga
Act I Varennes was a city built on the back of a lie, and the lie smelled of wet oak and rotting acorns. Alphonse Vidrine stepped off the stagecoach at first light, the mud sucking at his boots with a sound that felt personal, while Elise held her shawl tighter against the chill that had settled into her bones since they left the river camps. They were here for the university, or rather, for...
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