The Wistful Saga
The stone of the Keep did not breathe, but you could feel it humming against your spine, a low, tectonic vibration that traveled from the flagstones up through the soles of your boots and into the marrow of your bones. It was a sensation of absolute, cold permanence. You stood in the center of the Great Hall, the air thick with the scent of damp wool and old iron, while the rain lashed against...
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