The Distant Promise
The silver brooch sat in the bottom drawer of the archive cabinet, a glint of cold metal against the dark wood, and I knew with a sickening lurch that I had not put it there. For ten years, since the fever took my sister Maren, that brooch had been pinned to my collar, a heavy, constant weight against my sternum that reminded me of the debt I owed the silence. Now, three days before the new...
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