The Distant Clue
Act I Why do we keep the lights on in the house that is already empty? I asked myself this as the ink bled through the plaster, a dark vein spreading from the corner where the High Chancellor’s office had once been. The Palace of Whispers was not a ruin, not yet. It was a body holding its breath, the walls sweating a black liquid that smelled of iron and old paper. I stood in the center of the...
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