The Distant Ghost
The letter lay on the table, the wax seal broken, the ink still wet in the corners where the scribe had pressed too hard. Thomas read it twice, the parchment rough against his thumb, the words simple and absolute: *Elias is to be brought before the court at dawn.* He folded the paper and slid it into his tunic, the weight of it negligible, yet his hand trembled as he reached for the oak branch...
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