The Distant Blade

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2026-08-23 12:13:57 -

The Distant Blade

Prosser. The name was spat across the wet stone floor, a sharp bark that cut through the damp silence of the cell. Nathaniel Prosser stood by the iron bar, his hand resting on the cold metal, feeling the grease of the lock under his thumb. He was thirty-two, though the grey in his temples suggested a man who had aged a decade in the last three years of service. He wanted the confession. He...

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