The Distant Blade
The chisel bit into the glass with a sound like a bone snapping, sharp and final, and Elias did not stop. He worked in the silence of the studio, the air thick with the dust of silica and the stale heat of the furnace, his hands steady as he polished the iridescent shard. It was a fragment of a window pane, no larger than a playing card, held together by twenty years of care and a stubborn...
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