The Distant Promise
The iron taste of blood is the first thing you notice, sharper than the cold that has settled into your marrow. You are standing in the courtyard of the manor, the rain slicking the cobblestones into a mirror of grey and black. The arrows are still in the sky, or perhaps they have already fallen, but the sound of them is a persistent, high-pitched whine that vibrates in your teeth. You hold...
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