The Distant Legend
The hall of the old textile mill was not dark, but it was thick, the air suspended in a heavy, amber haze that smelled of dust and old paper. We had gathered, the three of us, around the central pillar, a massive block of granite that had once supported the roof of the loom room. It was a relic, a piece of architecture that had outlived its purpose, worn smooth by centuries of hands that no...
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