Crumbled
I remember the night the world forgot me. The moon was red as a bleeding wound, the wind thick with the stench of sorcery. My breath came ragged through my helm as I pursued the sorcerer through the ruins of a chapel, its walls long crumbled, its altar drowned in ivy. He was a wretched thing, cloaked in darkness, his voice like rust scraping against steel. I saw the glint of his eyes as he turned to face me, his lips curling into a smile that did not reach them.
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