The Distant Garden

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2026-08-20 10:41:49 -

The mud is black and sucking. It pulls at your boots with a wet, rhythmic thud. You are running. The spear in your hand is heavy, the wood splintered by sweat and fear. The village square is a storm of dust and screaming. You do not know why you are fighting. You do not know who you are fighting. You only know that the man in front of you is reaching for his throat, and you must stop him. You...

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