The Distant Ghost
The key is cold, a sliver of iron that bites into the meat of your thumb as you turn it. You are Elias Thorne, and you have held this position for six years, a border warden in the crumbling estate of Blackwood Hall, your hands roughened by the damp and the labor of keeping the boundaries intact. You wake from the dream of the shattered stone path, the fracture lines running deep and jagged, a...
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