The Faded River
The rain had not ceased for nine days, a persistent, grey curtain that blurred the line between the stone walls of the keep and the weeping moor beyond, and I stood before the High Chancellor, holding the object that had unraveled the fabric of my sanity, my hands trembling not from the cold which seeped through my woolen doublet, but from the terrible, crystalline weight of the evidence. "You...
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