The Distant Clue
The rain did not fall. It hung. A gray curtain, thick as wool, sealing the castle’s mouth. Elias sat. He was small. The chair was large. Wood groaned under his weight. Or perhaps it was his weight that groaned. The air smelled of wet stone and old blood. He did not blink. He counted the cracks in the wall. One. Two. Three. The number was not important. The counting was the armor. He was a...
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