The Wistful Crossroads
Act I The border town of Kaelis breathed in two tongues, the market stalls humming with the low barter of salt and silence as the north wind stripped the last warmth from the polytunnel hills. In the shadow of the Municipal Archive, Tars Vole adjusted the cuffs of his linen shirt, the fabric worn thin at the elbows from years of handling brittle paper. He was thirty-two, an archivist of the...
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