The Distant Joke
The snow fell in thick, silent sheets, erasing the world beyond the reach of Kaelen’s sword arm. He stood alone in the pass, the wind biting through his wool cloak, his breath a mist that vanished before it could form words. In his left hand, he clutched a folded piece of parchment, warm from the pocket of his tunic, while his right hand gripped the hilt of his longsword, the steel cold and...
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