The Faded Ruin
The wall was not merely broken; it was a wound that had never been allowed to heal, a jagged tear in the limestone skin of the Keep that bled cold drafts into the cellar where young Thomas Ashworth had been sent to count the remaining casks of ale, a task that felt less like inventory and more like a slow burial. He sat on the damp stone floor, his back against the cold masonry, the smell of...
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