The Distant Garden
The rain fell on the cobbled stones of the King’s Square with a sound like static, a hiss that seemed to unravel the very air, and you walked through it, your boots heavy, your mind heavier still, carrying the weight of a scholarship that felt less like a gift and more like a noose. You were a scholar of texts, a man who lived in the margins of other men’s words, and yet here you stood in the...
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