The Faded Attic

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2026-08-17 22:26:54 -

The Faded Attic

The bell in the tower of the keep did not ring for the hour, but for the arrival. It was a low, bruised sound that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of my bones, a warning that the air had turned thick and tasted of wet stone and old iron. I sat in the high gallery, my hands wrapped around a cup of wine that had gone warm, watching the courtyard below where the fog had settled like a burial...

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