The Distant Affair
The iron lantern had not been lit in three weeks. It sat on the heavy oak table in the center of the hall, its ironwork cold and dull, the glass panes clouded with a mist that seemed to originate from within the metal itself rather than the air outside. Seraphina, the keeper of the watch, stood before it, her hands resting on the rough-hewn wood of the table, feeling the vibration of the...
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