The Distant Cartograph
The house stood on the hill like a stone tooth grinding against the sky, its windows dark and deep-set, watching over the valley below. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of old wool and damp earth, a smell that had seeped into the very walls over decades of silence. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the living room, his uniform crisp, the brass buttons catching the dim light of the...
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