The Distant Legend

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2026-08-20 14:34:41 -

The flood took the mill. It took the roof, the looms, and the half-finished bolts of wool that had sat there since the autumn frost. It took my father. It took the silence that had settled over the village of Oakhaven like a heavy shroud, leaving only the mud and the rot. I stood on the ridge above the valley. The rain had stopped. The air smelled of wet stone and dying grass. I held the iron...

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