The Distant Promise
The walls of the Spire do not hold. They breathe. I know this because I can feel the dampness seeping into my bones, a cold that has nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the history of the stone. It is a palace of shadows, a vertical labyrinth where the light dies before it reaches the floor. I have spent three years here. Three years in the service of the High Keeper....
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