The Distant Ghost
The rain in the courtyard of Blackwood Keep did not fall so much as it was driven sideways by a wind that smelled of wet iron and rotting straw, a constant, cold assault that turned the flagstones into a slick, treacherous mirror reflecting the grey sky above. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood in the center of this wet circle, his boots slipping slightly as he adjusted his grip on the hilt of his...
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