The Pale Shadows
The rain did not fall. It hovered. A grey mist clung to the stone walls of the tower room, thick as wool, damp as breath. Elias sat by the window. His hands were still. They were the hands of a man who had forgotten how to tremble. Outside, the castle grounds lay silent. No birds sang. No wind stirred the dead leaves on the flagstones. Time had stopped here. Or perhaps time had never begun....
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