The Distant Blade
The elm tree in the courtyard did not rustle when the wind moved through the village of Oakhaven; it only held its breath. It stood as a silent sentinel of green, its branches heavy with leaves that seemed woven from the same ancient fabric as the stone walls of the manor, a living testament to a time that refused to pass. Elara Wynn stood before it, her hands resting on the rough, cool bark,...
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