The Pale Verdict
The ink was still wet on the parchment when the first blow landed, a heavy, dull thud that seemed to vibrate through the soles of your boots and settle in the hollow of your chest. You stood in the center of the Great Hall, the vaulted ceiling above you lost in the swirling gloom of the eternal twilight, the air thick with the scent of ozone and old blood, a scent that had become so familiar it...
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