The Distant Blade
The rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, cold weeping that turned the cobblestones of Oakhaven into a slick, black mirror reflecting the grey, bruised sky above. I stood at the edge of the town square, my hand resting on the hilt of my sword, not because I feared any man, but because the weight of the metal was the only thing that felt real in a world that had begun to dissolve...
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