The Golden Harbor
The dream began with the scent of wet wool and old iron, a heaviness that pressed against Thomas Vane’s chest as he drifted in the dark. He was standing in the courtyard of Blackwood Keep, a place that existed in the marrow of his memory, though the castle itself had been crumbling for a century. The air was thick with the weight of unspoken things, a tangible fog that clung to the stone walls...
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