The Distant Promise
The rain did not fall. It was suspended, a thick, gray curtain that hung in the air of the cellar, defying gravity and logic. Elias stood in the center of the damp stone floor, his hands bound by ropes that felt less like hemp and more like the cold, unyielding iron of his own past. He was a prisoner here. Not of the walls, though the walls were high and lined with books that had no spines,...
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