The Faded River
"Do you see it?" The voice came from the shadows of the great hall, low and textured like gravel shifting under a boot. I turned, my hand instinctively drifting to the hilt of the sword that had hung at my hip for twenty years, though the metal was cold and useless now, a relic of a war that had ended in a treaty rather than a battlefield. The room was vast, the air thick with the scent of...
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