The Distant Ghost
The iron door groaned against the stone, a sound like a bone snapping in the dark, and you stood in the center of the vaulted chamber, your breath visible in the cold air, your hands trembling not from fear but from the sheer, crushing weight of the silence. It is the year of the Ash King, and the kingdom is already dead, though they have not yet buried it. You are not a hero. You are a clerk,...
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