The Distant Summer

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 11:30:13 -

The morning coach smelled of wet wool and rot, a scent that clung to the back of your throat as you clutched the leather pouch against your chest. Inside lay the last of your savings, the price of your father’s farm, the only thing standing between your family and the winter auction. You were Elias, thirty-two, a constable of Oakhaven, and you had boarded this vehicle at dawn with the singular,...

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