The Wistful Ashes
Chapter One The sound of the obsidian shattering against the marble floor was not a crash but a wet, heavy snap, like a thick branch breaking under the weight of ice. Faye Cranfield did not flinch, though her hands, still stained with the grey dust of the recycled paper she had been sorting in the lower halls, trembled slightly as she stared at the three jagged shards of her ceremonial blade....
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