The Distant Nightmare
The chalice weighed two pounds and four ounces, a precise and damning fact that Elias Thorne had counted out on the brass scale in the dim, candlelit precinct, his hands trembling not from cold but from the sheer, crushing gravity of the silver. He was forty-two, a sergeant of the city watch, and he was holding the artifact that the High Magistrate claimed was stolen, though Elias knew with the...
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