The Distant Legend
"You said it would hold," Eleanor whispered. Her voice was thin, scraped raw by the dry air of the library. "You promised the foundation was solid." Miles did not look up from his desk. The afternoon light fell in slanting bars across the room, illuminating the dust motes that danced in the stillness. He adjusted his spectacles. The lenses were thick, distorting his eyes into deep, dark wells....
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