The Distant Joke
The obsidian signet ring on Elias Thorne’s left hand had developed a hairline fracture, a microscopic spiderweb of white against the black stone that pulsed in time with his own erratic heartbeat as he stood before the Magistrate’s tribunal. He counted the seconds in the silence, forty, forty-one, forty-two, feeling the cold stone press into his skin, a weight that had anchored him for twenty...
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