The Distant Legend
The fog did not roll in so much as it seeped up from the cracked earth of the moor, a thick, grey viscosity that swallowed the stone gate of the Blackwood Estate in silence. Elias Thorne stood alone on the threshold, his boots grinding against the ancient, lichen-slicked cobblestones, his hand resting on the cold steel of his service pistol. He was forty-two years old, a border patrol commander...
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