The Distant Nightmare
The rain slicked the cobblestones of the old town, turning the gas lamps into trembling halos of amber. Elias stood at the edge of the Plaza de la Luna, his coat buttons straining against the damp chill. He was an elder now, his hands mapped with the veins of age, his eyes clouded with a cataract that made the world a soft, bleeding blur. Yet his mind remained a sharp blade. He was the Keeper...
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