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Ghostcipher Threadvale Bronzeharvest
Threadvale lay nestled in a valley ringed by hills of soft green, where the morning mist clung to the fields as though reluctant to leave. Its people, bound to the rhythm of earth and season, lived in quiet harmony. Each autumn, when the crops turned gold and the air sharpened with a cool edge, the town would once gather for the Bronzeharvest—a festival both celebratory and sacred.
But for twelve long years, Bronzeharvest had been silent.
The reasons for its absence varied depending on whom you asked. Some said it was because the soil itself had grown weary, the yield too meager to celebrate. Others whispered of old disputes among the elders, petty arguments that had soured the festival’s spirit. And still others, especially the oldest folk sitting near the fires, claimed that the land itself had forbidden it—that something hidden had stirred, warning Threadvale away.
But for twelve long years, Bronzeharvest had been silent.
The reasons for its absence varied depending on whom you asked. Some said it was because the soil itself had grown weary, the yield too meager to celebrate. Others whispered of old disputes among the elders, petty arguments that had soured the festival’s spirit. And still others, especially the oldest folk sitting near the fires, claimed that the land itself had forbidden it—that something hidden had stirred, warning Threadvale away.
51 pages, Kindle Edition
Published October 5, 2025
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