The Distant Crown
The wind in the valley of Osgood’s Hollow did not merely blow; it scoured, a persistent, invisible hand that rubbed the stone walls of the old mill until they were smooth as river pebbles, erasing the rough texture of their original making in a slow, patient act of geological vandalism that mirrored the erosion of memory within the mind of Elara Vance, who sat in the high window of the...
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