The Wistful Show
The castle of Blackwood stood like a broken tooth against the gray sky. It was an age of stone and silence, where the wind carried the scent of wet earth and old blood. Thomas Whitmore climbed the ridge. His breath came in short, sharp bursts. He was a man from the south, a stranger in this land of mist. He sought the King. He sought the cure for his son’s wasting sickness. The boy lay in the...
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