The Distant Journey
The stone archway stood at the end of the long, grey path, a silent sentinel carved from the same cold, unyielding rock that formed the bones of the old castle, its surface etched with runes that pulsed with a faint, bioluminescent blue light that seemed to breathe in rhythm with the wind, a wind that carried the scent of ozone and wet earth, a smell that had always made the young squire’s...
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