The Distant Ghost
The air in the valley of Saint Jude tasted of iron, a metallic tang that coated the back of your throat and settled into the marrow of your bones before you had even crossed the stone bridge. You were Elias, Inquisitor to the High Court, and you had come to this remote, mist-choked hollow with a singular, burning purpose: to find the last heretic and secure the seat of High Magistrate that had...
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