The Distant Whispers
The blade was dull, Elias noted, the edge chipped from where it had struck the bone of a rat three days prior in the barracks, a flaw that made the execution less a mercy and more a butchery, a fact that sat in his stomach like a stone. He stood in the square of Oakhaven, the light of late afternoon slanting through the haze, turning the dust into a visible, choking suspension, and watched as...
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