The Distant Blade
The dream began not with light but with the smell of roasted garlic and the heavy, sweet scent of honey that had turned dark and thick, a smell that clung to the back of the throat like a memory one could not quite reach, and in that dream, the world was a vast, open field of pale gold wheat that rippled under a sky so blue it hurt to look at, and there, standing in the center of that endless...
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