The Distant Crown
The ink is dry, but my hands are shaking. I am Elara, and I have twenty-four years of life behind me and a ledger that must be finished before the solstice. The High Keep is cold, a place of stone and silence, but the archive holds a warmth that is not of this world. It is the Whispering Stone. It sits in the center of the room, a slab of obsidian that seems to breathe. It does not speak, not...
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