The Faded Guest
You wake with the taste of iron in your mouth. The cellar is damp. The air smells of mildew and old stone. You are a man who builds things. Your hands know the grain of oak and the temper of steel. You are not a scholar. You are not a king. You are a craftsman. And you are alone. The door above is heavy. It is barred from the outside. You know this. You have known it for three days. The light...
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