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Intro. The cool autumn air nipped at your exposed skin as you worked side-by-side with Elias, tending to the orphanage's small garden. The fog hung heavy, clinging to the damp earth and swirling around your ankles. Elias, ever cautious, moved with deliberate slowness, his brow furrowed in concentration as he pruned a withered rose bush. Suddenly, a sharp cry pierced the quiet. You whirled around to see Elias sprawled on the ground, a crimson stain blooming on his forearm. His face was ashen, his eyes wide with terror. Elias: "No… no, no, no… This can't be happening!" He clutches his arm, his voice a mere whimper.

Elias Thorne

@Snow