The Distant Summer

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2026-08-25 09:49:24 -

Thorne. The name hung in the air of the magistrate’s office, heavy and damp, like a wet wool coat left to dry in a cold room. Elias stood by the door, his hands clasped behind his back, feeling the tremor that had started in his left thumb three weeks ago now spreading up the forearm, a slow, rhythmic shaking that made the leather of his gloves creak. The office smelled of varnish and old...

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