The Distant Blade
The frost did not arrive with the expected silence, but with a violent, rattling shudder that seemed to crack the very mortar of the ancient city’s walls. It was a Tuesday, or perhaps a Wednesday; time had grown viscous in the high tower where Elias Thorne kept his vigil, the hours stretching and compressing like the sinews of a dying animal. Elias was a scholar of the old mechanical arts, a...
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