The Wistful Silence
The stone of the Obsidian Keep did not merely stand; it breathed, a slow, tectonic exhalation that ruffled the dust on the floor of the central chamber. Sir Kaelen stood alone in the dark, the forty-year weight of his body aching in the joints, a dull, persistent fire that no amount of ale or rest could soothe. He was here to bind the spirit of the fortress to his own, a final rite to ensure...
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