The Distant Garden

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2026-08-18 02:31:02 -

The bell in the square did not ring for the dead, but for the hour, and it was the hour of the Assessor’s inspection. Margot stood in the center of the cobblestone circle, her hands clasped before her, watching the dust motes dance in the shafts of light that pierced the heavy fog. She was a woman of the Old Craft, or what the town called the Old Craft, which was a polite way of saying she was...

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