The Distant Blade
"Stay back. The fog is thickening." The voice came from the ridge. It was not a shout. It was a warning. A command. You felt the weight of it in your chest, heavier than the pack on your shoulders. You stopped. Your boots crunched against the wet gravel. The mist rolled in from the valley below. It was not white. It was gray. A bruise-colored gray. It swallowed the world. "Is it here?" you...
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