The Distant Ghost

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2026-08-24 01:59:06 -

The Distant Ghost

The mist clung to the castle walls like a wet shroud, swallowing the stone towers of Aldenmoor. Sir Thomas Bradshaw adjusted the strap of his sword, the leather biting into his shoulder. He was forty years old, and his hands, usually steady as oak, trembled slightly. Beside him stood Elias, his squire, a boy of twenty with eyes that burned with a feverish intensity. They had come to the...

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