The Distant Legend
The window was broken. It had been broken for days. Or maybe years. Time was a fluid thing here, in the high tower of the old castle. The wind whistled through the jagged glass. It sounded like a thin, high-pitched scream. Margaret stood by the sill. She held a shard in her hand. It was sharp. It cut her palm. She did not feel it. She was not supposed to be here. The guards had locked the door....
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