The Distant Joke
The dream did not have the texture of sleep, but rather the heavy, damp wool of a cloak soaked in river water, pressing against the bones of Wulfric, the Royal Inquisitor of the Northern Reaches, as he lay in the straw pallet of the guest chamber in the keep of Lord Aldous. In the dream, the castle was not stone and mortar, but a vast, breathing organism of dark timber and rotting flesh, and...
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