The Pale Garden
The road to the village of Oakhaven was not a straight line but a winding scar in the earth, cutting through the autumnal mist with the precision of a surgeon’s blade. Elias Thorne drove his carriage along this path, the wheels churning up mud that clung to the undercarriage like wet wool. He was a man who lived in the margins of the visible world, a seer whose gift was less a power and more a...
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