The Distant Legend
The ink on the page was cold, a damp chill that seeped through the skin of Elias Thorne’s thumb and settled deep in the bone, a sensation he had learned to associate with the approach of the winter solstice and the tightening of the Ministry’s budget. He adjusted his spectacles, the lenses fogging slightly in the drafty air of the archive room, and looked up at Director Vane, who stood at the...
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