The Distant Garden

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2026-08-20 02:16:28 -

The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a grey veil that choked the light. Thomas stood at the edge of the moor, his boots sinking into the mud. He looked at the tree. It was a rowan, gnarled and dark, its leaves stripped by the wind. He had come to cut it down. This was the order. This was the penance. He held the axe in his hands. The wood of the handle was cold, slick with...

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