The Faded Root
Act I Brath Orris owed the town of Kael seven years of service, a debt he paid in silence while the fog rotted the cypress swamps. He stood in the magistrate’s office, the air heavy with damp wool and old paper, waiting for the man to sign the lease for the Root House. The magistrate, a small man named Verris, did not look up from his ledger. "The root is growing," Verris said, his pen...
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