The stone was cold.
It pressed against Julian’s back.
He was still.
The air smelled of damp earth and old blood.
He was in the cellar.
The walls were thick.
They were black with age.
Water dripped.
Tick.
Tock.
It sounded like a heartbeat.
It was not his.
Julian was a guard.
He wore iron.
His armor was dented.
The dents were old.
He had served the Duke.
He had served the Law.
Now he was alone....
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