The Distant Legend
The road to the manor house was not a road at all, but a track of churned mud that seemed to swallow the wheels of the carriage whole. Elias Thorne sat hunched in the corner, his coat soaked through, the dampness seeping into his bones with a slow, insidious chill. He held the leather satchel against his chest as if it were a shield, or perhaps a heart. Inside lay the manuscript. Not the...
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