The Distant Blade

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 01:43:25 -

The Distant Blade

The hall was loud. Too loud. The air smelled of roasting goose and wet wool. Margaret stood by the hearth. She held a pewter cup. Her hands shook. Not from the cold. From the weight. The weight of the stone walls. The castle was old. Older than her name. Older than the river that cut the valley. It did not change. It stayed. It watched. She looked at the fire. The flames danced. They were...

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