The Distant Crown
Elias. The name hung in the air of the workshop, heavy and sharp, spoken by the Guild Master with a contempt that stripped the word of its warmth. You were on your knees, the tweezers trembling in your hand, when the shadow of the man fell across the workbench, blocking the morning light that had just begun to creep under the door. The Guild Master, Aldric Vane, did not look at the clock you...
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