The Distant Joke

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2026-08-19 05:21:09 -

The Distant Joke

The dream was cold. It smelled of wet stone and old iron. Silas stood in the courtyard of the Keep. The sky above was a bruised purple, heavy and still. He held his sword, the Ashwood Blade. It was lighter than it should have been. He could feel the air through the steel. He swung it. The tip passed through a leaf on a nearby oak. The leaf did not fall. It stayed suspended, trembling. He woke...

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