The Distant Promise
The fog did not roll in so much as it rose, a thick, grey tide that swallowed the cobblestones of the old town and the spires of the cathedral, leaving only the rhythmic, heavy thud of Elias Thorne’s boots against the wet stone as he made his way toward the keep, the air heavy with the scent of damp moss and something faintly metallic, like blood mixed with iron filings. He was a man who had...
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