The Golden Harbor
"You left the seal on the wet stone, didn't you?" The question hung in the damp air of the cellar, heavier than the rot that clung to the walls. I did not answer. I stood in the dark, my hand wrapped around the cold iron of the royal seal, feeling the vibration of the Whispering Stone pulse against my palm, a low, sickening thrum that matched the frantic hammering of my own heart. It was a rule...
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