The Distant Ghost
You wake in the damp cold of the keep, the stone pressing its ancient, unyielding weight against your back, a sensation that feels less like a floor and more like the bedrock of the world itself. The air is thick with the scent of wet wool and old iron, a smell that has seeped into the very mortar of this place, into your skin, into the marrow of your bones, until you can no longer tell where...
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