The Distant Summer
The stone walls of the keep did not breathe, but you felt them shudder against the cold of the night air. You are standing in the center of the circular room, the torchlight flickering against the rough-hewn granite, casting long, dancing shadows that seem to possess their own malicious intent. The air is thick with the scent of damp moss, old iron, and the metallic tang of dried blood. You are...
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