The Distant Crown
The debt is settled, Elias. Silas spoke from the darkness, his voice a dry rasp like gravel shifting under a boot. Elias could not see him, but he knew the shape of the silence around the foreman’s words. He was forty years old, and his lungs felt like they were filled with wet sand. The fever had broken three days ago, but the taste remained. It was a thick, metallic sludge, the flavor of the...
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