The Distant Whispers
The ivy had consumed the eastern wall of the Blackfriars Guild Hall so thoroughly that the stone itself had become a mere suggestion, a ghostly skeleton beneath a living, breathing shroud of green that pulsed with a rhythm indistinguishable from the heartbeat of the city beyond the high, barred windows. It was a substance that defied the rigors of masonry and the laws of physics, a creeping,...
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