The Distant Joke

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2026-08-22 16:00:52 -

The Distant Joke

The rain in Vaelor does not fall so much as it is pressed down from the sky, a cold, persistent weight that soaks into the cobblestones and the bones of the city alike. You are Elias, thirty-four years old, your hands raw and red from the grip of a sword you have not drawn in anger in three years, and you clutch a tarnished bronze compass against your chest, its needle spinning with a frantic,...

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