The Wistful Saga
The rain on the castle windows is a sound you have known since childhood. It is the sound of the world trying to break in, only to be held back by stone and iron. You stand in the center of the Great Hall, the wetness of the storm seeping through the floorboards, chilling the soles of your boots. The air is thick with the scent of damp wool, old wax, and the metallic tang of fear. You are the...
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