The Distant Garden
The rain tasted like copper. It slicked the cobblestones of Millbrook into a mirror that reflected nothing but the gray sky and the wet, shivering dog huddled by the bakery door. Elias Thorne stood in the doorway of the precinct, his uniform soaked through, the fabric clinging to his ribs like a second skin. He was a small man, built for endurance rather than power, with eyes that had seen too...
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