The Faded Road
You dream of the moss. It is thick and black, swallowing the stones of the old keep. You are standing in the courtyard, but the sky is wrong. It is a bruised purple, heavy with a rain that has not yet fallen. The air tastes of iron and rot. You are not alone. Edward is there. He stands by the well, his back to you. He wears the grey tunic of the watch, but the fabric is torn, shredded at the...
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