The Distant Summer
The rain did not fall so much as it descended, a heavy, grey curtain that erased the horizon and turned the world into a blurred smear of mud and stone, a relentless washing of the earth that seemed to strip away not just the topsoil but the very memory of the seasons that had passed. Thomas Bradshaw stood in the center of the grand hall, his boots sinking slightly into the wet carpet that had...
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