The Wistful Grid
The ink bled into the heavy, cream-colored paper of the ledger, a slow and inevitable seeping that mirrored the way the fog had crept into Edward’s bones during the long, grey journey from the coastal villages to the isolated manor of his late uncle, a man who had spent his final days speaking of debts that were not monetary, but of a darker, more visceral nature, debts owed to the earth itself...
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