The Distant Garden

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2026-08-20 09:40:55 -

The rain had been falling for three days, a thin, persistent mist that clung to the high windows of the manor like the breath of the dead. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of damp wool and old paper, a perfume of decay that Elias Thorne had come to associate with the smell of his own intellect. He stood before the large oak table, his fingers trembling not from cold, but from a sudden,...

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