The Distant Garden
The fog in the highlands does not merely obscure; it remembers. You stand in the doorway of the border post, the cold biting into your knuckles as you grip the silver locket. It is small, dented, and heavy with the weight of your sister’s death. You are Elias Thorne, thirty-four years old, a man who has spent a decade patrolling this line between the living and the dead, and you are here to...
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