The Distant Blade
The tremor began in the metacarpals of Elias Thorne’s left hand, a fine, high-frequency vibration that he felt not in the fingers but in the bone, as if the marrow were humming a single, sustained note that no ear could hear. He stood alone on the frozen ridge above the valley, the wind cutting through his wool coat with the precision of a scalpel, and he pressed his palm flat against the snow...
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