The Distant Journey

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2026-08-20 02:32:23 -

The banquet hall of the Iron Citadel did not smell of roasted meat or spiced wine, but of wet stone and the metallic tang of old blood, a scent that clung to the back of my throat like a second skin, and as I sat at the long oak table, the candlelight flickering in a draft that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere, I watched the shadows dance across the faces of the lords who had summoned...

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