The Distant Promise
The gear is broken, Elias. Do you hear me? It is shattered, and it is your fault. Guild Master Harrow stood in the doorway of the workshop, his breath pluming in the frigid air, his face a mask of bureaucratic disdain that seemed carved from the same cold stone as the city walls. You did not answer immediately. Your hands, wrapped in woolen gloves that had lost their warmth hours ago, trembled...
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