The Distant Joke

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2026-08-22 15:56:18 -

The Distant Joke

The ink on the parchment was still wet, a dark, bleeding smear against the coarse grain of the wood, when Elias Thorne heard the heavy oak door of the Ranger’s lodge groan open. He did not look up from the letter he was composing, the words *resignation* and *debt* hovering in his mind like the mist that clung to the valley of Oakhaven; his hands, calloused and steady from twenty years of...

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