The Distant Crown
The ring was cold. Elias Thorne held it between his thumb and forefinger, the metal slick with sweat in the dim light of his bedroom. It was a simple band, gold, unadorned, but it felt heavy, as if it had been filled with lead. He looked at his hand. The skin was red, blistered, peeling in long strips that hung like dead leaves. This was the third time this week. The ring appeared only when he...
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