The Distant Garden

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2026-08-19 08:13:59 -

The morning mist in the city of Aethelgard did not lift so much as it dissolved into the cobblestones, a slow exhalation from the earth that settled into the bones of the buildings and the joints of the men who walked them. For Thomas Bradshaw, the mist was a physical weight, a damp shroud that clung to his chainmail and smelled of wet iron and ancient, rotting moss. He stood at the base of the...

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