The Distant Blade
The quill scraped the vellum. It was a dry, rasping sound, like a bone dragging across stone. Elias Thorne’s right hand moved in a steady, practiced arc, the ink flowing black and wet into the parchment. He was copying the final chapter of the *Codex Aeterna*, the text he believed would hold the Abbey of Saint Jude against the siege outside. The candle guttered, casting long, wavering shadows...
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