The Water Grave
The cells of the Blackwood Oubliette were carved directly into the wet limestone of the riverbank. Alistair, a man who had once commanded armies, now commanded only the dampness of his own breath. He had been cast down here by his own peers, a sacrifice to maintain the stability of the regime. Beatrice was the woman in the cell below him. Her voice was a low, haunting melody that drifted up...
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