The Distant Whispers
The stone of the keep did not sleep, as one might suppose of living things, but rather it waited with the terrible, patient stillness of a mountain that has forgotten the name of the sky, its walls thick enough to swallow the wind and the whisper of the world outside, sealing the cold into the marrow of the rooms where Sir Alaric Vane spent his nights not in the comfort of a lord but in the...
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