The Distant Affair
You have been walking for three days, or perhaps it has only been a single hour in the land of the mist, for time here does not behave as it does in the village of Oakhaven, where the clock strikes the hour with a dull, wooden thud that sounds like a bone breaking. Here, the air is thick with the scent of wet iron and old parchment, and the ground beneath your boots is not soil but a pale,...
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