The Distant Blade
The letter lay on the kitchen table, the paper thin and yellowed at the edges, smelling faintly of the damp basement where it had been stored for six months. Elias Thorne read the date first, November 14th, then his own name printed in the stark, sans-serif font of the Border Patrol Directorate. He did not open the envelope immediately. He stood by the window, watching the fog press against the...
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