The Wistful Skyline
The mortar was crumbling again, and this time the dust tasted of iron and old blood. Elias Thorne stood alone in the central keep of Blackwood Fort, a structure of grey stone that had watched over the valley for three centuries, and he felt the first irregular thump of his own heart against his ribs, a stuttering rhythm that matched the faint, rhythmic pulse now emanating from the ancient walls...
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