The Faded Ruin
"Do you think it will work?" Elias asked, his voice barely a whisper against the rough wool of his blanket. Elara did not answer immediately. She was hunched over the chamber pot, the linen cloth in her hand stained a dark, rust-red that looked wetter than blood should be. The room was cold, the kind of damp chill that seeped into the joints and settled in the lungs, but Elias felt a feverish...
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