The Distant Nightmare
The steel was cold, and it weighed more than it had the day before, a heavy, dull thing that dragged at Elias Thorne’s wrist as he raised it. "You have the nerve to stand before me, old man," Julian Vane said, his voice flat and devoid of the tremor that currently shook Elias’s fingers, "after stripping yourself of the only dignity this Order allows." Elias did not answer. He could not. The...
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