The Distant Blade
Thorne. The name was shouted through the dust, a jagged sound that tore the air in the collapsed east wing of the Municipal Library. Elias Thorne lay pinned beneath a slab of concrete, the smell of wet plaster and burning paper thick in his throat, choking him with the scent of his own failure. He tried to move, but his left leg, shattered below the knee, locked him in place, a useless anchor...
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