The Distant Ghost

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2026-08-20 22:08:41 -

The Distant Ghost

The feast was a lie, but a necessary one. We ate roasted pheasant and drank ale that tasted of iron and old wood, while the wind howled outside the stone walls of Harrowgate, shaking the timbers as if the house itself were a living thing in pain. I sat at the head of the table, holding the jagged piece of obsidian in my hand, its surface slick with my own sweat. It was not a weapon, not...

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