The Faded Photograph
The rain hits the slate roof. It is a steady drum. You are wet. You are cold. The castle breathes. It is old. It is damp. You stand in the corridor. The torches flicker. Shadows dance. They look like hands. They look like ghosts. You are the King’s Man. You are the Shield. You hold the sword. The steel is cold. It bites your palm. You do not let go. You cannot let go. Lord Alaric walks ahead....
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