The Distant Promise
The iron gate did not close. It dissolved. You stand in the courtyard of the Blackwood Abbey. The air tastes of rust and wet stone. A storm breaks above you, not with thunder, but with a silence so heavy it crushes the breath from your lungs. You are a soldier. You have fought in the mud of the Fens. You have felt the slide of a blade in your own ribs. But this place is not of this world. The...
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