The Distant Promise
The fog in the village of Oakhaven did not merely sit upon the cobblestones; it breathed, a cold and damp exhalation from the earth itself, seeping into the bones of the houses and the marrow of the people who dwelt within them. For three hundred years, the women of Oakhaven had kept the Loom, an ancient and skeletal structure of dark oak and iron that stood in the center of the communal hall,...
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