The Distant Metropolis
The stone breathed, a slow and rhythmic expansion and contraction that I felt in the marrow of my bones long before the first frost of the season settled upon the ramparts, a physical pulse that connected the living flesh of the garrison to the ancient, unyielding heart of the keep, where the air tasted of damp moss, old iron, and the metallic tang of blood that had seeped into the mortar...
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