The Pale Bonsai
You stand in the center of the courtyard, the air thick with the scent of ozone and crushed lavender, your hands trembling not from cold but from the sheer, terrifying weight of the silence that has settled over the village of Oakhaven, a silence so profound it seems to have teeth, gnawing at the very stones of your ancestral home while the war drums, distant and rhythmic like a second...
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