The Wistful Mountain
The iron badge lies in your palm, cold and heavy, its surface scratched by years of polishing that never quite reached the deep gouges. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two, a constable in the walled town of Oakhaven, and you are shaking. The tremor starts in the wrist and travels up the forearm, a fine, persistent vibration that makes the metal rattle against your skin like a coin in a cup. You...
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