The Distant Summer
"You left the seal." The voice was low. It scraped against the silence of the room like a nail on wood. Elias looked up. His hand hovered over the quill. The ink was dry. A thin black line ran from the corner of his eye, a crack in the porcelain mask of his composure. He did not blink. He stared at the man standing by the door. "Which seal?" Elias asked. His voice was flat. Controlled. "The one...
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