The Distant Clue
The blood tasted of copper and old rust. It coated the back of Elias’s throat, a thick, metallic film that made every breath a struggle. He stood in the center of the long, vaulted hall, the stone floor cold through the soles of his boots. The air was stale, heavy with the scent of damp moss and the faint, sweet decay of wilting flowers. Around him, the court stood in a silent ring. They did...
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