The Distant Promise
The loom wept. Silk threads stretched taut in the dark. They hummed a low, dissonant note. It was a sound like a dying breath. Or a warning. Silas Vane did not hear it at first. He was dreaming. In the dream, his daughter, Elara, stood in the garden. She was seven years old. Her dress was white. It was stained with mud. She held a bird in her hands. The bird was still. Its eyes were open. They...
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