The Distant Affair
The morning mist lay heavy over the valley of Oakhaven, a thick, white shroud that swallowed the cobblestones and the iron gates of the manor house where Elias Thorne had spent his life sharpening his blade. He stood by the window, the cold glass pressing against his forehead, watching the fog curl around the ancient oaks that lined the driveway. Inside, the air was stale, smelling of old paper...
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