The Pale Bridge
The air in the Hall of Echoes tasted of copper and crushed lavender, a thick, cloying sweetness that sat heavy on your tongue. You sat at the long oak table, your hands wrapped around a mug of spiced wine, the heat seeping into your cracked knuckles. Around you, the courtiers of this strange, timeless kingdom feasted. They ate with a silence that was louder than any clatter of cutlery, their...
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