The Distant Crown
The candle flame in the cellar of Oakhaven trembled, not from any draft, but from the sheer, oppressive weight of the silence that had settled over the room like a shroud. Elias, thirty years old and already hollowed out by the relentless labor of copying the town’s ledgers, watched the black veins of his father’s left hand pulse with a rhythm that did not match the old man’s slowing breath....
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