The Faded River
The stone of the Watchtower did not merely stand; it breathed, a slow and rhythmic exhalation of cold air that seeped through the mortar and into the bones of Sir Aldric Vance, who had spent forty years listening to the silence of the kingdom’s borders, waiting for the moment when the silence would finally break and reveal the shape of the thing that lived within the dark. He was a man carved...
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