The Distant Legend
The needle slid through the wool with a dull, rhythmic thud, a sound that had become the only clock Elara Vance knew. She did not look up from the seam, her fingers working the thread with the mechanical precision of a machine that had long since forgotten how to stop. In her mind, however, she was not in the cramped, sweat-stinking floor of the Ashworth Textile Mill; she was standing in the...
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