The Distant Legend
"You are late, Mr. Ashworth. The King has grown impatient with your silence." The voice did not come from a person, but from the stone itself, a low resonance that vibrated through the soles of my boots and settled heavy in my chest. I stood in the center of the Grand Hall, a space so vast that the ceiling seemed to be made of dark, swirling clouds rather than vaulted brick. The air smelled of...
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