The Faded Ruin
The iron gate groaned. It was a sound like a man breaking his own neck. Aldric stood before it, his hand still wrapped in the wet, red cloth of his brother’s life. The blood had soaked through the bandage, hot and heavy, pulsing in time with a heart that was no longer beating. He did not wipe it. He let the rust bleed onto his glove. The gate was not locked. It was simply waiting. Aldric was a...
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