The Distant Blade
The rain had been falling for three days, a steady, gray curtain that blurred the edges of the world outside the window. I stood in the center of the drawing room, my coat still damp, the water dripping from the hem onto the Persian rug in small, dark stars. It was a house of silence and dust, a place where time seemed to pool in the corners, heavy and still. I was there to find the truth, or...
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