The Distant Blade
The rusted blade lay heavy in Elias Thorne’s grip, its iron hilt cold against his palm, a weight that seemed to anchor him to the wet cobblestones of the Ironworks District courtyard. It was a relic from the old forge, a thing of jagged edges and dark metal, yet as Thorne stood in the driving rain, he felt a low, localized hum vibrating through the steel, a sound that was not quite sound but a...
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