The Distant Legend

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2026-08-22 11:43:29 -

The roast boar was crisp, the wine thick and red, and the laughter in the hall of Oakhaven was loud enough to shake the dust from the rafters, yet I sat in the corner, silent, clutching a single, iridescent moth wing in my fist. I am Elara, a weaver of thirty years, and I have spent the last three years weaving my grief into every thread I pull, believing that if I work hard enough, if I secure...

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