The Distant Cartograph

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2026-08-22 10:20:35 -

The valley floor was a brown slurry of silt and rotting reeds, and the cold had settled into my bones like a second skeleton. I stood at the edge of the river, twelve years old and shivering so hard my teeth clicked against the silence, clutching a rolled parchment tight against my chest. The map was the last thing my father had drawn before the fever took him, a precise chart of the northern...

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