The Distant Blade
"The map is wrong," I said, my voice sounding thin against the wind that whipped through the broken arches of the sanctuary. Thomas looked at me, his face pale and drawn tight with a hunger that was no longer for food. He held the parchment in his trembling hands, the ink faded by rain and time. "Maps are merely suggestions," he replied, his tone deceptively calm. "The land is the truth." I had...
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