The Faded Quadrant
The stone of the Undercroft did not smell of decay, but of a cold, metallic patience that had outlasted the very concept of time, a silence so profound it seemed to have weight, pressing against the eardrums of the living and the dead alike, a heavy, damp blanket of centuries that smothered the breath and the light in equal measure, leaving only the faint, rhythmic pulse of my own failing heart...
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