The Gothic Waltz
The mist over the Carpathian peaks did not merely drift; it breathed, a cold, spectral lung that exhaled a permanent twilight over the jagged spires of Castle Valerius. Count Valerius lived in the heart of this stone silence, a man whose soul had become as brittle and grey as the gargoyles that guarded his ramparts. He was a collector of rare sorrows, a nobleman who found more comfort in the...
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