The Distant Ghost
The iron key hangs heavy on your belt, a cold anchor to the world above, yet your gaze remains fixed on the dust motes dancing in the singular shaft of light that penetrates the high, vaulted ceiling of the Hall of Whispers. You are Sir Alistair Thorne, the King’s most trusted shield, and you have come here not to conquer, but to listen. The air in the great hall is thick with the scent of...
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