The Wistful Asylum

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2026-08-19 11:48:44 -

The stone floor of the keep was cold enough to seep through the soles of Sir Aldric’s boots, a chill that traveled up his shins and settled in the marrow of his knees. He stood alone in the center of the great hall, the torches flickering with a sputtering, erratic rhythm that cast long, dancing shadows against the vaulted ceiling. The air smelled of damp mortar, stale wax, and the faint,...

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