The Wistful Voyage
The salt air of the North Sea did not cleanse; it merely corroded, gnawing at the leather straps of the satchel that Elias Thorne clutched against his chest with a desperation that bordered on the physical, for within that satchel lay the Echoing Cloth, a fragment of undyed linen that had been the instrument of his torment for twelve years, a relic that whispered the sins of every soul that had...
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