The Distant Blade

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2026-08-18 23:01:41 -

The Distant Blade

The mist rolled off the moor in thick, grey banks, swallowing the world whole. I sat on the cold stone bench of the manor’s garden, watching the droplets gather on the ferns until the fronds weighed heavy with sorrow and snapped. It was a quiet death. A slow, inevitable surrender to gravity. My father had once told me that the garden was a mirror of the soul, and that if one wished to know the...

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