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Artisans once raised a citadel so high the clouds made it their home. Now, all is silent. The old tales feed t…

Artisans once raised a citadel so high the clouds made it their home. Now, all is silent. The old tales feed the vines that creep through fissured tiles, slowly mending the land's scars. A lone sprout breaks the soil, reaching for sunlight that leaks through the wreckage.

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Artisans once raised a citadel so high the clouds made it their home. Now, all is silent. … | Where Winds Meet Database