The Distant Blade
The frost had settled upon the windowpanes of the manor in a pattern that resembled the intricate, unfurling veins of a leaf, a delicate geometry that Margaret held in her gaze for a long, suspended moment before she turned her attention back to the heavy, oak-wood table where her husband, Elias, sat with his hands folded tightly in his lap, his knuckles white against the dark timber as if he...
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