The Distant Joke
The road was a scar cut deep into the side of the hill, a ribbon of churned mud and broken stone that wound endlessly toward the grey, indifferent sky, and it was here, in this desolate stretch of the highlands where the wind had teeth and the silence was heavy enough to crush the breath from one’s lungs, that Elias Thorne walked with a purpose that felt less like a journey and more like a...
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