The Wistful Saga
The frost had not yet taken the ground in Oakhaven, but the air already bit with a promise of winter that settled deep in my chest, a dull, rhythmic ache that matched the slow, grinding pulse of the great oak in the village square. I am Elias Thorne, fifty-two, a constable who has spent thirty years keeping the peace in this remote valley, and I wanted nothing more than to see my pension papers...
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