The Distant Blade
The rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a fine, grey mist that clung to the windows of the manor house and blurred the world beyond into a watercolor of indistinct shapes. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of old paper and beeswax, a smell that had settled into the very grain of the oak floorboards over decades. Elias sat in the high-backed chair by the fireplace, his hands resting...
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