The Pale Bonsai
The ink on your official report does not dry; it weeps. You are Elias Thorne, a border warden of thirty-four years, and you have spent the last decade trying to prove that the Pale Bonsai is a hallucination, a trick of the fog and the fatigue that haunts the northern gate. Your pension depends on it. If the tree is real, the post is defunded, your years of service are erased, and you are left...
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