The Distant Ghost

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2026-08-22 01:17:32 -

The Distant Ghost

The wind cuts through the wool of your cloak. It is a sharp, dry blade. You feel it in the marrow of your bones. You are walking. You are always walking. The road stretches before you, a gray ribbon unspooling into the mist. The sun is low. It hangs pale and thin in the sky. It offers no warmth. Only light. Cold light. You are a man of the Order. You wear the gray. You carry the sword. You are...

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