The Faded River
"You will not leave." The voice was not loud. It did not need to be. It hung in the air like smoke, thick and suffocating. I looked up from the manuscript. The ink was still wet. It glistened like a bruise. Sir Aldric stood in the doorway. His shadow fell across the stone floor. It stretched long and distorted. It reached for my feet. I did not move. My heart beat a slow, heavy drum against my...
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