The Distant Garden
The rain had not stopped for three days. It drummed a relentless, hollow rhythm against the high windows of the Abbey, a sound that seemed to eat away at the silence we had kept for so long. I stood by the window, watching the gray water streak down the glass, blurring the view of the courtyard where the lilies used to grow. Now there was only mud and the smell of wet stone. My sister, Elara,...
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