The Distant Affair
The sky above the valley did not darken; it curdled. It turned a sickly, bruised violet, and the air tasted of copper and wet ash. You stood at the edge of the cliff, your boots sinking into the soft, yielding earth that smelled of rot and ancient roots. In your hand, you gripped the hilt of your sword, the leather wrap worn smooth by decades of use, frayed at the edges like an old man’s coat....
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