The Distant Blade

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2026-08-18 05:07:57 -

The Distant Blade

The dream began with the smell of wet wool and iron. It was a heavy, cloying scent. It stuck to the back of Thomas’s throat. He woke with his hands clenched. The sheets were twisted tight around his wrists. The room was dark. The air was still. He knew he was not home. The walls were made of stone. They were damp. They wept. Water traced silver lines down the mortar. A single window let in a...

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