The Wistful Voyage
The stone cracked. Not broke. Cracked. A hairline fracture ran through the lintel of the Great Hall. Old Elias stood in the center of the room. Dust fell like snow. It landed on his beard. He did not blink. "Is it done?" he asked. His voice was dry. Like dead leaves. "Almost," said the King. King Aldric stood by the door. He was young. His armor gleamed. It reflected the dim light. He looked at...
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