The Distant Nightmare

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2026-08-21 21:37:05 -

The feast at the Hall of St. Jude was a thing of excess, a sprawling tableau of roasted swans and honeyed figs that seemed to mock the silence of the man sitting at the far end of the table. Aldric was not a young man, nor was he old in the way that suggested fragility; he was a creature of weathered stone, his face a map of lines carved by decades of study and solitary vigil. He wore the grey...

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