The Faded Paradox
You are bleeding from the left temple, the blood warm and startlingly bright against the grey stone of the keep’s ramparts, and you think, with a clarity that feels borrowed, that you have finally found the answer to the question that has been gnawing at your mind for three years. The rain is falling in heavy, cold sheets, turning the mud of the lower courtyard into a slurry that sucks at your...
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