The Distant Journey

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2026-08-19 16:05:52 -

The air in the great hall of Ashworth Manor did not smell of roasting meats or spiced wine, but of wet earth and old iron, a scent that clung to the back of the throat like a bad memory. I sat at the long oak table, my hands folded over the hilt of my sword, watching the servants move with a frantic, silent grace that spoke of fear rather than service. Outside, the storm had been raging for...

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