The Distant Crown
The rain did not fall so much as it existed, a dense, gray curtain that erased the horizon and turned the highlands of the Scottish moor into a place where time had forgotten to tick. It was the kind of weather that seeped into the bones, a cold that was not merely of temperature but of spirit, soaking into the wool of the greatcoat and settling there with the weight of old regrets. Elias...
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