The Distant Blade
The stone did not break. It did not shatter into a thousand glittering fragments that would have satisfied the eye’s craving for symmetry. Instead, it crumbled, like dry bread left too long in a drawer, into a fine, grey powder that drifted down onto the cobblestones with the slow, inevitable grace of snow. Elias stood in the center of the courtyard, the dust settling on his shoulders, on the...
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