The Distant Legend
The frost had bitten deep into the concrete of Cell 4B, a cold that seeped through the thin wool of Elias Thorne’s uniform and settled into the marrow of his knees, yet his hands trembled not from the chill but from the violent, rhythmic anticipation of the library hour. He sat on the edge of the iron bunk, his eyes fixed on the heavy steel door, listening for the specific, heavy thud of the...
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