The Distant Nightmare
The oak tree stood in the center of the courtyard, its roots gripping the damp earth with a tenacity that defied the season, its branches sprawling outward like the arms of a weary giant who had forgotten how to rest. It was a tree that did not die, not truly, for it had witnessed the fall of kings and the rise of commoners, and it remained, a silent witness to the blood that soaked into the...
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