The Pale Meridian
The hall was thick with the scent of roasted boar and stale wine, a heavy, cloying sweetness that clung to the back of your throat. You stood at the edge of the long table, watching the candlelight flicker against the stone walls of the Keep. It was a night of feasting, of loud laughter and the clatter of silver upon wood, yet you felt nothing but a cold, hollow ache in your stomach. You were...
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