The Distant Crown
Chapter One Every debt in the Ashen Vale was written in stone, and every stone had a price. Marlene Arnold stood at the edge of the mine, her hands raw and white from the cold, clutching a satchel that weighed more than her bones. She was thirty-four, and the humidity of the alpine air clung to her skin like a wet shroud, ruining the fabric of her coat. In her pocket, the final memory stone...
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