The Distant Whispers
The rain did not fall so much as it hung, a gray curtain that blurred the edges of the world, turning the cobblestones of the old quarter into slick, dark mirrors. Elias Thorne walked with the heavy, deliberate gait of a man whose legs had forgotten the lightness of youth. He was a scholar of the arcane, a keeper of the university’s oldest texts, a position that afforded him a quiet dignity but...
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