The Faded Paradox
You wake. The damp is in your bones. It has been there for weeks, a cold weight that settles behind the eyes and lingers in the joints. The candle flickers. The air tastes of iron and old wax. Where are you? You are in the tower. The highest room of the keep. The walls are thick stone, rough and cold. A single window lets in the gray light of dawn. Below, the courtyard is empty. No birds. No...
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