The Distant Crown
The air in the cellar was thick, a suspended soup of dampness and the sweet, rotting perfume of overripe plums. It was a smell that coated the back of the throat, heavy and cloying, promising both sustenance and sickness in equal measure. Elias sat in the center of the circular room, his back against the rough-hewn stone wall, his legs stretched out before him. He was a man of few words, a...
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