The Distant Promise
The fog does not merely enter the palace; it seeps into the stone, a cold, damp breath that settles in the marrow of the walls and the lungs of the men who dwell within them. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, the court physician, and you stand before the iron-bound door of the King’s private chamber, your hand trembling not from the chill but from the weight of the vial in your pocket,...
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