The Distant Blade
The road was a ribbon of red clay that twisted through the highlands like a vein stripped from the earth, and Caelen walked it with a heavy burden strapped to his back, the leather straps biting into his shoulders until the skin beneath turned a bruised purple. He was a glassblower, a maker of things that caught the light and held it for a fleeting second before letting it slip away, and he had...
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