The Distant Garden
The rain in Oria does not fall; it seeps. It finds the cracks in the limestone, the gaps in the mortar, the hollows in your bones. You are Elias, forty-two, and you are standing before the Wall. It is the only thing in this ancient, rotting city that has not yet surrendered to the damp. The Wall separates the aristocrat’s garden, a place of manicured silence and expensive dust, from the slums,...
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