The Distant Cartograph
The rain fell in sheets, gray and cold, washing the red from the mud. Elias stood at the edge of the cliff, his boots sinking into the slurry. He looked down into the valley below. It was a deep, dark throat. The fog swallowed the bottom whole. He had walked for three days. His legs burned. His lungs felt like they were filled with wet sand. He carried nothing but his sword and a small,...
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