The Distant Garden

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2026-08-19 14:51:15 -

"You are not the gardener." The voice was not a voice. It was the sound of roots splitting stone. It came from the shadows behind the iron gate, where the mist curled like wet wool. I stood at the edge of the courtyard, my boots sinking into the damp earth. The castle loomed above us, a skeleton of grey stone against a sky the color of bruised plums. I was twelve. I was small. I was afraid....

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