The Distant Promise
The fog in Blackwood was not a weather phenomenon; it was a presence. It pressed against the constable’s coat, damp and cold, erasing the edges of the village until the world was reduced to a gray, breathing void. Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the main road, his hand deep in his pocket, fingers curled around the cold, cracked silver of his father’s signet ring. He had come to find Arthur...
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