The Golden Visit
The rain fell in sheets against the leaded glass of the keep, a relentless, rhythmic drumming that seemed to drown out the very concept of silence, yet inside the high, cold hall of the Inquisition, the quiet was so profound it felt like a physical weight pressing against your eardrums, a suffocating blanket of dust and old parchment and the faint, metallic tang of dried blood that no amount of...
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