The Distant Blade

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2026-08-23 11:46:55 -

The Distant Blade

The rain had not stopped since dawn, slicking the black granite of the Obsidian Spire until it looked less like a building and more like a wet, breathing lung. I stood in the courtyard, my shoes soaked through, holding the envelope that contained my ten years of silence. My name was spoken by the wind, or perhaps by the low-frequency hum that only I could hear, a vibration that rattled my teeth...

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