The Distant Promise
The coin in Kaelen’s hand was cold, heavier than it looked, its edge worn smooth by years of passing from palm to palm in dim, damp rooms. It was the last of his wages, a copper token that should have bought his release from the Guild’s ledger, yet it sat in his fist like a stone, a weight that did not lift. He stood in the corridor of Blackthorn Manor, the air thick with the scent of wet wool...
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