The Faded Frontier
The stone does not decay, you know, not in the way that wood rots or iron rusts, for it is the memory of the earth made solid, and it waits with a patience that is indistinguishable from malice. You stand before the Great Hall of Aethelgard, a structure that has outlasted the kings who built it and the gods who blessed it, its white limestone face glowing with a terrible, cold luminescence in...
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