The Distant Blade
The bell did not ring. It hummed, a low, bruised tone that vibrated in the marrow of Elara’s bones, a sound that seemed to rise from the damp earth of the cellar rather than the iron clapper above the village square. She sat on the cold flagstones, her fingers stained with the dark, viscous residue of nightshade and honey, a mixture she had been preparing for three days without sleep. The air...
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