The Faded Guest
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, grey curtain that turned the cobblestones of the old watchtower into slick, dark mirrors reflecting the bruised sky, and I sat in the corner of the small, damp cell, listening to the water drip from the stone ceiling with a rhythm that felt less like weather and more like the slow, grinding passage of time itself, a time that had stretched...
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