The Distant Blade
In the margin of the ledger, written in a hand that trembled only slightly: Debt acknowledged. One page remaining. Mona Rustom sat in the dim, vaulted silence of the Archive, the smell of dry papyrus and old dust settling into the creases of her skin, and she knew with a certainty that felt like a physical weight in her chest that this was the last task she would ever perform for the...
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