The Distant Summer

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2026-08-25 01:30:16 -

The heavy silver tongs sat in Elias Thorne’s hand, cold and slick with the grease of roasted duck, his knuckles white against the metal as he watched the Vane patriarch take his first sip of the tonic. It was a thick, amber liquid that smelled of burnt sage and something sharper, like the air before a lightning strike, and the old man’s face flushed with a heat that seemed to radiate out into...

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