The Faded Guest
The old man sat in the high-backed chair, his hands folded over a book that had no pages, only a spine of black wood. "Is it true?" the young scholar asked. His voice was thin, stripped of the confidence he had carried into this hall. He stood before the dais, where the air smelled of damp stone and ancient dust. "They say you have been waiting for three centuries." The King did not look up....
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