The Distant Clue
The castle of Aethelgard did not stand so much as it hovered, a pale smear of stone against the bruised purple of the twilight sky. It was a structure of such delicate, impossible architecture that it seemed less built than grown, its spires thin as needles, its windows like the eyes of blind moths. Elias Thorne stood at the base of the great stair, his boots sinking slightly into the moss that...
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