The Pale Shadows
The candlelight in the Great Hall of Dunmore Castle did not flicker; it burned with a steady, surgical precision that made the shadows sharp and cruel. Sir Eamon sat alone in the center of the room, his back straight against the cold stone of the throne, his left hand resting on the pommel of his sword. His fingers trembled, a fine, high-frequency vibration that traveled up his wrist and into...
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