The Distant Affair
The name came from the mist, a dry crack of thunder that seemed to peel back the fog. "Elias Thorne." It was not a voice, exactly, but the sound of a gate slamming shut in a house where no one lived. He stood at the edge of the Weeping Woods, his boots sinking into the black mud that smelled of iron and old rot. The Council had promised him a pardon for his brother, Thomas, if he could bring...
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