The flowers grew only in the graveyard.
Julian Blackwood knew this the way a man knows the weather in the place he was born—he didn't need to be told, it was just part of the air he breathed. The Ashen Bloom, they called it in the old records, though Julian suspected that was not its real name. Names had meanings in the language that had spoken it first, and that language was dead, buried under three generations of Blackwood planters...
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