The Distant Crown
Elias Thorne, the name was called out with a sharpness that cut through the dust motes dancing in the slanted afternoon light, not by a voice of affection but by the dry, papery rustle of the document he held in his trembling hands, a document that smelled of the university’s cold, bureaucratic indifference and the ink that had sealed his fate for the third time in a decade. He stood in the...
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