The Distant Legend
The compass needle was trembling, Elias, not spinning, but trembling, as if the earth itself were holding its breath. Silas stood three paces back, his hands buried in the pockets of his wool coat, watching the instrument with a stillness that felt heavier than the autumn air. Elias gripped the brass case tighter, the metal biting into his palm, and adjusted the tripod legs until the bubble...
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