The Distant Blade
The iron was cold. It lay on the table. It was a knife. Not a blade for meat. Not a tool for the kitchen. It was a weapon. It was the only thing in the room that mattered. Elias held it. His hands shook. The wood of the table was scarred. Years of use. Years of silence. He looked at the metal. The edge was dull. It had been used. It had been used on many things. Blood had soaked into the grain....
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