The Distant Garden
The rain does not fall so much as it settles, a fine, grey mist that clings to the cobblestones of the courtyard and seeps into the bones of the old stone walls, a cold that has lived here for centuries and refuses to leave, and you stand at the center of this wet, circular space, your armor feeling less like protection and more like a cage of iron ribs that are slowly rusting over your skin,...
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