The Distant Summer
The road to the Abbey was paved in slate, cracked by the roots of ancient oaks that leaned over the path like tired sentinels. Elias walked with a heavy stride, his boots sinking into the mud that had turned to soup after three days of rain. He carried a satchel of leather, worn smooth by years of carrying books and bread. Inside, a single loaf of stale rye and a jar of honey. That was his...
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