The Distant Ghost
The steel seal lay in my palm, cold and heavy as a stone pulled from a frozen river, its surface a perfect, mirror-like void that reflected only the grey, swirling snow of the pass. I am Elias Thorne, a master engraver of forty-two years, and I had sworn to deliver this royal commission to the capital before the winter solstice, a deadline set by a crown that did not care for the aching in my...
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