Shadows are hunted for their pelts and sold to tailors. He, the greatest hunter of all, once caught a mountain's shadow. Crashed the market.
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But his ambition was not sated. He brooded. Planned. Consulted astronomical tables. Waited. And then it came: Solar eclipse. Moon's shadow.
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It struggled, oh it did. Left swathes of land in eternal dusk, created a sea of darkness as it bled out. But this was it: The last eclipse.