The Distant Summer
Chapter One Could a man survive the weight of his own office? Aram Petrosyan asked the question aloud in the cold dark of the archive, where the air tasted of rotting parchment and old sweat. He was thirty-two, a royal seer in the Vardpetronian Empire, and he was tired in a way that sleep could not fix. The velvet mantle of his rank hung on his back, heavy as wet stone, absorbing the emotional...
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