The Distant Legend
The fire in the basement furnace refused to take, a small, pathetic sputter that died before it could even warm the soot. Elias Thorne stood before the metal grate, his hands trembling so violently that he could not keep the dampening glove steady on the spine of the Whispering Ledger. He was forty-two, a senior archivist at the Meridian Institute, and in twenty years of service he had never...
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