The Pale Verdict
The morning Thomas Ashworth left his brother’s side, the fog lay thick and wet against the stone walls of the keep, a gray shroud that seemed to breathe with the slow, heavy rhythm of the earth itself. He did not look back as he crossed the threshold of the dormitory, his leather boots striking the flagstones with a dull, final thud that echoed in the hollow silence of the corridor. The air...
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