The Distant Whispers

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2026-08-23 19:54:59 -

Elias. The name hung in the damp air of the cellar, sharp and accusatory, spoken by Old Thomas who stood over him with a lantern that sputtered in the draft. Elias blinked, the taste of wet grit still coating his tongue, the lingering sensation of his hands being made of grinding stone fading only slowly into the cold reality of his own flesh. He sat up, rubbing his face where the frostbite had...

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