The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-22 04:37:29 -

The bell of the Citadel of Aethelgard did not ring; it groaned, a low, tectonic moan that vibrated in the marrow of every stone and every soul within its walls. It was a sound that had no beginning and no end, only a persistent, grinding presence that marked the passage of time not in hours, but in the slow accumulation of silence. Thomas Ashworth stood at the head of the long, vaulted hall of...

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