The Distant Affair
The mortar was stone, the pestle iron, and the sound they made together was a dull, rhythmic thud that vibrated in Elias’s teeth. He ground the moonstone root, a pale, fibrous thing that smelled of wet earth and old iron, his hands moving with a mechanical precision that masked the trembling of his pulse. Above him, in the dry, sunlit room, the Guild Master’s wife, Agnes, watched him through...
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