The Distant Blade
The rain on the moors does not wash things clean; it only makes the mud deeper, and the weight of what you carry heavier. You know this. You have always known this, even before the sword was given to you, even before the name of Ashworth was branded into the wood of the gate. You are walking now, or perhaps you are standing still, for time has lost its sharp edges in this place, and the line...
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