The Faded Frontier
The candle guttered. It threw long, shivering shadows against the damp stone of the cellar. Elara sat in the dark. She did not light another wick. She did not need to see. She knew the shape of the room by heart. She knew the cold bite of the floor. She knew the weight of the silence. On her lap lay the coat. It was a heavy thing, woven of wool so thick it seemed to have its own pulse. The...
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