The Distant Ghost

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2026-08-26 05:09:33 -

The Distant Ghost

The parchment was damp. I held it in my left hand, the leather grip of my sword in my right, and read the list of names. Thomas. Sarah. Little Peter. The ink had bled in the rain, smearing the final letter of Peter’s name into a black tear. I was thirty-two years old. My knees ached with a dull, grinding pain that had nothing to do with the cold. The village of Aethelgard sat below me, a...

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