The Distant Whispers

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2026-08-17 10:50:05 -

The fire did not roar. It whispered. It curled through the dry heather like a living thing, a serpent of orange and black that tasted of resin and old blood. Edward Ashworth watched it from the ridge. His hand was steady on the hilt of his sword. His eyes were dry. The village below, a tangle of timber and thatch, was already a skeleton of smoke. He had come to save them. He had come to bring...

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