The Distant Journey
The old stone chapel stands at the edge of the moor, its roofless mouth gaping against the gray sky like a throat stripped of flesh, and you have come here, you who were once a man of the court, now a ghost in the living world, to find the silence that the noise of your own ambition has drowned out for twenty years. You are Thomas, though you have not used the name in a long time, for names are...
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