The Faded Bouquet
The stone did not fall, it dissolved, or so it seemed, as the mortar between the flagstones of the courtyard crumbled into a fine, grey dust that coated our tongues with the taste of ancient earth and iron, while the sky above the keep turned the color of a bruise, swollen and purple, and I stood there, my hands slick with the sweat of a man who has run too far and too fast, looking at the wall...
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