The Faded Bouquet
The heavy oak door groaned in the draft, a sound that seemed to echo through the vaulted ceiling of the Great Hall, where the torches burned with a low, sullen orange that cast long, trembling shadows against the stone walls. It was a cold night in the highlands, and the wind clawed at the shutters, seeking any weakness in the ancient defenses of the castle, but within, the air was thick with...
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