The Distant Blade
The iron blade hangs suspended in the air, vibrating with a low, mournful hum that you feel in the teeth before you hear it with your ears, and you realize with a cold, visceral shock that the weapon is not merely resting against the ancient oak table but is fused to the wood, to the air, to the very fabric of the room, a singularity of steel and sorrow that refuses to be put down. "Is it...
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