The Distant Ghost
The iron collar sat heavy on Elias Thorne’s neck, a band of cold metal that had not moved in seven years. It was a relic of the Vane lineage, a thing of forged steel and older magic that hummed against his sternum with a sound like a distant, trapped bird. Elias held the collar’s clasp in his hands, his fingers black with the ink of the archives, turning the mechanism until the lock clicked...
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