The Distant Summer

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2026-08-21 15:54:04 -

The air in the great hall tastes of stale wax and rotting lilies, a cloying sweetness that clings to the back of your throat as you sit in the shadows, your fingers wrapped tight around the heavy, iron-bound book in your lap. It is a feast, or so the banners claim, but to you it is a funeral, a gathering of the living who are already dead. You are the scholar, the keeper of the old words, and...

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