Scentless god

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Chapter 145 THE FIRST PLOW

The wind shifted at dusk, carrying the metallic tang of old lightning down from the high crags where the relay had died.

Vanya sat on an upturned timber crate outside the forge, using a coarse whetstone to hone the edge of a felling axe. The rhythmic shhh-clack was the only sound cutting through th...

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