The Distant Nightmare
The frost came early that year, cracking the earth beneath the old oak trees like porcelain. It was not a natural frost, but a heavy, white silence that settled over the valley of Blackwood, erasing the horizon. The villagers spoke of it in hushed tones, their breath clouding in the thin air. They said the land was sick. They said the sky had forgotten how to be blue. But Elias knew better. He...
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