The Distant Whispers

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2026-08-20 07:51:50 -

The rain does not fall so much as it insists, a cold and persistent drumming against the slate roof of the watchtower, a sound that has become the very rhythm of your blood since you took the post three winters ago. You are not a warrior in the way the old ballads describe, with steel clashing and blood on the lips; you are a keeper of silence, a sentinel of the threshold, your body a rigid...

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