The Distant Cartograph

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2026-08-17 13:19:31 -

The fire started in the mill. It began with a spark. A red eye in the dark. Then the roar. We watched from the bridge. The timber caught fast. The smoke was thick. It tasted of ash. It tasted of fear. I stood there. My hands were cold. My name is Silas. I am the town’s keeper of records. I know the names of the dead. I know the names of the living. I know the weight of words. I know the weight...

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