The Distant Journey
The iron key hung heavy at my belt. It was a simple thing, blackened by time and sweat, yet it held the weight of the world in its cold teeth. I had carried it for three days. Three days since the order came. Three days since the village burned. The wind tasted of ash and old blood. I stood in the courtyard of the Abbey of St. Jude, a place of stone and silence that had outlasted kings. The...
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