The Pale Garden
Willa woke with the taste of copper and ash on her tongue, a metallic tang that coated her teeth and settled in the hollow of her throat. It was a familiar flavor, the residue of a dream that never quite let go, even in the waking hours. The air in her cottage was thick, heavy with the scent of damp earth and the slow, sweet rot of overripe fruit. Outside, the village of Oakhaven slept under a...
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