The Distant Joke

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2026-08-24 09:03:53 -

The Distant Joke

The snow fell in thick, wet sheets against the window of the checkpoint hut, erasing the world beyond the glass. Elias sat on a crate, his boots laced tight, staring at the iron limb that rested on his knee. It was a prosthetic, black and cold, known in the lowlands as the Hollow Hand. It had taken the place of his left arm after a border skirmish three winters past. The magic in the iron was...

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