The Distant Blade
The glass vial in my hand was cold, its surface slick with condensation that smelled faintly of iron and crushed lavender. I held it up to the light, watching the amber liquid swirl, while the roar of the council chamber pressed against the walls like a physical weight. Mayor Halloway stood at the head of the long oak table, his face a mask of bureaucratic stone, while the other four members...
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