The Pale Echo

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2026-08-20 19:09:01 -

The Pale Echo

The moth struck the glass. It was a pale, dusty thing, its wings spread in a final, silent scream against the cold. I watched it beat its thorax against the pane. Again. Again. A rhythmic, futile percussion. My name is Elara. I am the Keeper of the Seal. And I am leaving. The castle of Blackwood does not age. It decays. There is a difference. Decay is slow. It is the quiet surrender of stone to...

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