The Wistful Skyline
Chapter One In Kizilca, the fog did not lift; it merely changed its density, pressing against the stone like a damp wool blanket that no one could shake off. Ayse Aydin stood in the ruins of her ancestral home, the air heavy with wet limestone and the metallic tang of old blood, her fingers trembling not from cold but from the weight of the iron chest she had dragged from the cellar. She was...
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