The Distant Garden

bir ses eklendi Literature

2026-08-19 15:40:30 -

The mist does not clear. It thickens. You are a soldier. You have always been a soldier. The armor is not metal but moss. It grows over your shoulders, heavy and wet, smelling of rot and rain. Your sword is a branch of ash, dead and grey, stripped of leaves. You stand in the Garden. Or perhaps the Garden stands in you. The distinction has blurred. The fog swallows the horizon. There is no sky....

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