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... nto every exposed inch of skin. My cloak thrashed wildly around me, a torn and tattered thing I'd been wearing for longer than I could remember. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep the cold from killing me. Beneath it, layers of patched wool and leather clung to my body, each piece bearing scars of its own—rips, burns, stains I couldn't explain.

Ice stretched in every direction, an unbroken, desolate sea. No horizon. No destination. Just endless white under an unfeeling sky. Fissur ...

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