The Distant Whispers
The stone of the High Court did not feel like stone to Elara; it felt like skin. It was a living, breathing thing, cool and damp against the soles of her bare feet, humming with a low, subterranean frequency that she had known since childhood. In this age of mists and iron, the palace was not merely a seat of power but a vessel for the old magic, a structure that breathed in the prayers of the...
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