The Faded Ruin
Act I The caravan city of Tunis, the white town, was a place of seasonal law and terraced tea hills that swallowed the horizon in a thick, damp fog, a landscape where the wind decided the day by the angle of the chill it pressed against the skin. In the pleasure quarter, where the curfew bells rang out to seal the gates, the air smelled of wet stone and the sour tang of over-fermented grain, a...
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