The Distant Joke

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2026-08-20 11:46:14 -

The Distant Joke

The glass was cold in my hand. It tasted of iron and dust. "Put it down, Thomas." Master Aldric’s voice was soft. Too soft. It carried the weight of the stones above us. We were in the cellar of the Guild Hall. The air was thick with the smell of wet limestone and old blood. I held the vial up. The liquid inside swirled. It was not wine. It was not water. It was the marrow of the beast. "It...

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