The Wistful Mountain
What does it cost to keep a promise when the air itself is a creditor? Ramon Pelayo felt the question in his teeth, a grinding ache that mirrored the frost accumulating on the interior glass of the watchtower. He was forty-five, a border sentinel in the Unnamed Range, a place where the Basque coast had been buried under centuries of terraforming grit and the sky was the color of bruised iron....
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