The Pale Bridge
The iron gate groaned under your hands as you pushed it open, the sound a low, metallic shriek that cut through the stagnant air of the courtyard. You were still wearing the mud of the borderlands, caked into the creases of your uniform, a testament to the violence you had just survived. But here, in the shadow of the High Keep, the world was different. The air smelled of lavender and old...
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