The Distant Crown
The axe bit into the heartwood of the ancient oak with a sound like a bone snapping. Elias Vance did not look up from his work. His hands, calloused and stained with amber sap, moved with a rhythm that had outlived the man himself. Around him, the forest was not merely trees; it was a breathing, shifting entity, a labyrinth of green and grey that defied the logic of the sun. This was the...
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