The Distant Summer
The document lay on the oak table, its edges browned by decades of damp, the ink faded to the color of dried blood. Elias Thorne traced the final clause with a finger that no longer obeyed his commands, the tremor in his hand a constant, grinding vibration that made the paper shudder beneath his touch. He needed the Guild’s seal to secure the pension his father had promised, a sum that would...
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