The Distant Summer

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2026-08-22 07:07:20 -

The ale was warm. It tasted of copper and old wood. They drank until the candles guttered. Then they stopped. The silence was thick. It pressed against the eardrums. "Go," said Elias. His voice was low. It was a rasp of dry leaves. "You must go. Before the light comes." I looked at my hands. They were stained with ink. The black crept under the nails. It looked like dirt. It looked like rot. I...

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