The Distant Blade
My hand was steady when I signed the retraction, but the ink bled into the parchment like a fresh wound, spreading its dark, wet stain across the date of my disgrace. I am Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, and I have spent the last three months in the damp cellar of the Valorian court, trying to prove that the King’s new star-chart is a fraud. The capital is choked by a fog that tastes of iron...
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