The Distant Legend
The cellar door splinters under the force of your shoulder, the ancient wood giving way with a groan that echoes like a bone breaking in the quiet dark. You are Elias Thorne, thirty-two, a watchman of Oakhaven, and your hands are shaking so violently that you can barely grip the iron bar. You are not afraid of the darkness below; you are terrified of the light above, where the Magistrate’s...
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