The Pale Altar
The wind did not howl in the valley of Aethelgard; it hummed, a low, resonant frequency that vibrated in the marrow of the stone walls and the bones of the men who stood guard upon the high ramparts, a sound that was less an auditory event and more a physical pressure against the eardrums, a constant reminder that the world outside the iron gates was not empty but full of a heavy, waiting...
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