The Distant Blade

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2026-08-20 12:21:51 -

The Distant Blade

The rain fell in sheets of grey iron. It hammered the tin roof of the hut. A rhythmic, deafening drum. "Did you hear it?" asked Elara. Her voice was thin. A thread of smoke. "Nothing," said Silas. He stared at the wall. The plaster was damp. It wept. "Only the storm. Only the water." "Then why does the air taste of copper?" Silas did not look at her. He looked at his hands. They were rough....

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