The Distant Cartograph
The mist did not lift so much as it dissolved into the fabric of the air, a slow exhalation of the valley that left the stone paths slick and the silence heavy with the scent of wet lichen and decaying oak. Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the clearing, his breath a ragged, visible thing in the chill morning, and he watched the figure of Master Aldric walk away down the slope, his back broad...
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