The Distant Legend
The wool in the basket weighed exactly four pounds, three ounces, a fact that Elara had counted out with the cold, precise fingers of a woman who knew the value of every stitch in a shroud. She sat by the window of the small cottage rented from the Abbey’s steward, the needle moving in a steady rhythm, mending the hem of a tunic that smelled of damp stone and old smoke. Outside, the winter of...
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