The Distant Legend
The lock was jammed. You knew this. You had known it for three days. The brass was green with verdigris, the teeth of the mechanism fused by rust and silence. You held the key. It was cold in your palm, a small, hard thing that felt heavier than it should. Your fingers were raw. You had tried to pick it, to force it, to whisper to it until your throat bled. It would not turn. The room was...
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