The Faded River
The seal broke not with a sound, but with a silence that swallowed the entire hall. It was a silence so absolute that the dust motes dancing in the shafts of pale, moonlight seemed to freeze in their slow, erratic orbits, suspended in a void that had no beginning or end. The grand chamber of the White Tower, a place where the air was always thick with the scent of beeswax and old parchment,...
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