The Distant Blade
You are Elias Thorne, and the tea is hot, but you are not drinking it. The mug sits in your right hand, the ceramic warm and smooth against your palm, while your left hand rests on the edge of the table, fingers splayed, trembling with a heat that has nothing to do with the liquid. It is a burn that starts deep in the marrow of the wrist, a dull, throbbing ache that has persisted since the...
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