The Faded Dust
I Eino Salmi’s hand shook as he lifted the iron key from the mud, the weight of it a cold, familiar anchor against his palm, though the gate before him did not belong to the parish records he had spent three years collecting debts for. The Hollow Keep stood at the edge of the fen, a structure of black obsidian that seemed to drink the grey light of the winter morning, its surface rippling like...
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