The Wistful Witness
"You’re holding it too tight, Thomas," said the old man, his voice dry as the peat beneath their boots. "The river doesn’t care about your grip. It only cares about your weight." Thomas Ashworth, a man whose shoulders had been broadened by twenty years of standing watch in the rain, adjusted his hold on the lantern. The glass was cold. The flame inside was a pale, trembling thing, barely alive...
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