The Distant Garden

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2026-08-18 18:08:25 -

The dream smelled of rot and honey. Elias woke with the taste of copper in his mouth. It was not blood. It was old wine, dried in the throat of a stone. He sat up. The straw bit into his back. Outside the window, the rain hammered the slate like a thousand small fists. He was in the cellar of the inn. The air was thick. It tasted of damp wool and fear. "You are awake," said a voice. It was old...

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