The Distant Journey
The wall does not end. It is a thing of stone and silence, a perimeter that has stood for centuries while empires rose and fell outside its reach. I press my palm against the cold granite, feeling the vibration of the earth beneath my feet, a hum that is less a sound and more a memory of the living world. I am Margaret, and I am the Keeper. For forty years, I have walked these corridors,...
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