The Pale Shadows
The ink on the parchment was not merely black; it was a void that swallowed the light of the candle, a heavy, viscous dark that threatened to seep through the vellum and stain the hands of the scribe. Aldric sat in the lower gallery of the Great Hall, his back pressed against the cold stone of the window seat, watching the King. It was a Tuesday, or perhaps a Wednesday; time in the court of...
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