The Distant Promise
The rain had not stopped for three days. It did not fall so much as it hung, a grey, heavy curtain that erased the line between the sky and the cobblestones of the street below. Elias Thorne sat at his desk in the lower office of the Archivist’s Guild, the wood worn smooth by decades of elbows and ink-stained fingers. He was a man of small stature and quiet habits, a clerk who organized the...
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