The Distant Legend
The rain had not stopped for three days. It drummed against the slate roof of the university library, a relentless, hollow rhythm that seemed to hollow out the bones of the building itself. Elias Thorne sat at his desk, the leather creaking under his weight, a stack of medieval manuscripts spread before him like a wound. He was a man of words, precise and cold, and he found the damp air in his...
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