The Distant Whispers
The iron gauntlet of Sir Julian Vane did not merely protect his hand; it was the architecture of his soul, a rigid cage of riveted steel that had fused with the flesh of his palm over the course of seven long years. It was a masterpiece of the armory, polished until it reflected the cold, gray light of the keep’s windows, and when he moved, the metal did not scrape or grind, for the interior...
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