The Distant Promise
You sit in the high tower of the Blackwood Keep, the stone beneath your back cold and unyielding, a slab of history that has absorbed the whispers of a hundred dead kings. It is the hour of the wolf, that liminal time when the shadows stretch long and thin across the flagstones, and the air tastes of iron and old dust. You are the Royal Archivist, a title that sounds grander than the reality,...
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